


Love and other complications

by SnapeLove



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, HEA, Hurt/Comfort, Life Debt, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Second War with Voldemort, Sentient Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 01:02:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 23,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16863298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnapeLove/pseuds/SnapeLove
Summary: Hermione's biggest mistake was saving the life of Severus Snape- everyone thought so, including him. Eight years later Severus looks for the way to get rid of his Life Debt to Hermione, Minerva just wants for Hogwarts to stop acting up... And then, there is the question of pesky emotions.





	1. Lioness or a Snake

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hermoanie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hermoanie/gifts).



> Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Harry Potter world, which is trademarked by J. K. Rowling. This story is purely for entertainment purposes, no money is being made from it.
> 
> A/N: Written for Hermoanie for the Pen15isMightier Holiday Gift Exchange 2018. Hope you enjoy it.
> 
> Special thanks to Lady with the whip in her hand, my driving force to write, for which I love her to the bits [FawkesyLady](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarma/pseuds/FawkesyLady), lady who was willing to brainstorm the stories twist's an turns until I came up with what I have now [corvusdraconis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/corvusdraconis/pseuds/corvusdraconis).
> 
> And special thanks to [thepurplewombat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepurplewombat/pseuds/thepurplewombat) my beta <3 <3 <3

Hermione raised her eyes from the teacup she was holding in her hands to glance at the Headmistress.

“I don’t know, Minerva. Last time he nearly hexed me,” she sighed.

“And yet, you are the only one who can get close enough to him. But this time is worse. He raised the protective wards, and no-one can penetrate them. No-one but you, that is.” Minerva looked tired, the age pronounced on her face more than usual. “He is injured and in the need of care. I am willing to give you paid leave, as much as it is needed.”

“You do realise that my original wish was to be a barrister or a politician—someone who will change this world for the better?” she replied half in annoyance, half sad.

These words were not fair, and she knew it. It was her choice to train as a potioneer, specialising at healing potions. Soon after the war was over, she realised that nothing would ever change, so she decided to choose the field that would allow her to make a difference. But at this moment, it wasn’t about fairness; it was about self-preservation.  

“Nonsense, and we both know it.” Minerva made a dismissive gesture. “I know what is this all about, and trust me—I wouldn’t ask if there is any other way.”

“He will start asking questions, you know. He will question why am I the only one who can go through his barrier.” Hermione tried, one last desperate attempt to wriggle out of what appeared to be an inescapable task.

“He won’t. No one, not even Severus Snape, knows how exactly a Life Debt works. To be honest, no one was willing to go to such lengths to save someone in a very long time.”

“Do you judge me for what I’ve done?” She blinked at the Headmistress. It never occurred to her that Minerva of all people could be resentful about what she did.

“No, and I never did. But even if that is not the case, who am I to defy the wants of one's heart?” Minerva smiled at her.  

“When I saved him I wasn’t—” She suddenly stopped, realising what Headmistress had just said.

“Oh my dear, I’ve known you since you were a wee lass. Besides, it is quite obvious for all that care to see.”   

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. _This was meant to be my secret._

“And, even if I can’t understand, I do believe that both you and that stubborn mule do deserve happiness.” Minerva sounded nostalgic.

“Impossible...” she whispered, more to herself than to give a comment to Minerva’s words.

“There is still hope my dear girl. He may still open his eyes and notice the gem he has as his fiercest champion.”

Hermione's heart fluttered before decided to impersonate the raisin and shrink. Pain spread through her chest like acid. She had to take a few deep breaths to suppress the quiver in her voice.

“Yes, and then we could live happily ever after—me, him and the memory of Lily.” She spat out the words, sounding bitter even to herself.

“His memory of Lily is just that—a memory, one that he still holds on to. He is as fragile as any of us, and she is his shield. Even he can’t stay eternally indifferent to all that you do for him.”

“Oh, he isn’t indifferent—make no mistake about it. He despises me for it.” Now, her voice quivered. _I won’t start crying, not in front of Minerva, not now._

“My dear girl, you studied Potions! You took his place in this school in every sense of that word. You gave the piece of yourself to him and to this school for him. You have forgone your own house and became the Head of Slytherin—” Minerva accused, and Hermione raised her head.

“Yes, and I can’t leave my house unattended.” The shimmer of hope filled her chest, making her heart cramp in pain, shame flooding her for forgetting about her students.  

“Draco offered to replace you, as a Head and as a teacher until this matter is resolved.”

“Malfoy! No, no that won’t do! He—”

“He is a changed man, and he is worried about Severus too. He promised to follow your instructions to the letter.” Minerva dismissed her hope with a careless wave of the hand.

Hermione sighed. “This isn’t you asking me; this isn’t a request, is it?”

“I’m afraid so. It is also a school matter; when he is weak, so are the school wards.”  Minerva’s features hardened.

She already knew that she was a part of the school’s magic just like any Headmaster or Headmistress was, just like Severus was. The school’s magic was almost like an entity, sentient and fluid. When she asked the school for a favour, to aid her in saving Severus Snape, she willingly gave part of her own magic, her own life force, in payment. At the time it was almost poetic, one wounded and one dead saving the other—she aided both of them to survive.

The flow of magic was now free, she knew; she served as a conduit for it. And even if she had no authority to aid or control Hogwarts, she was a part of it. In a way, she had robbed Minerva of her rights as Headmistress. Given that Severus couldn’t surrender his ties to the school, Minerva’s ability to master the school was diminished and reduced, and Hogwarts was and had always been—temperamental. Severus’ reckless and downright self-destructive behaviour didn’t help either. Too often for her taste, he’d do something which would retaliate on the school—lowering protections, an odd misfire of wild magic—

This took a toll, not on Severus or herself, but on Minerva, ageing her more than was natural.

Hermione realised she is staring into an empty space, leaving Minerva to wait for her reply. “Very well, I’ll be ready in an hour. You may send Malfoy an owl.” She finally placed her cold and almost untouched tea on the table.

“Use the floo, Hermione. I am grateful—” Minerva started to say, but she wasn’t in a mood for cordial pleasantries.

“Careful, Headmistress, you are starting to sound like Headmaster Dumbledore.”

“And you, my dear girl, are starting to sound like _him_.” Minerva gave her one tight smile.

Hermione tilted her head in recognition and took a pinch of floo sand calling to her room.

Once she was safe and alone she pressed both hands over her mouth, unable to calm their shaking.

_Oh, Gods! I just insulted the Headmistress. Gods, this is bad._

It took her a few minutes to regain control over her rapid breathing and shaking. It was only after an elf popped in to inform her that her things are packed that she snapped out of her panicked stupor.

Thanking the elf, she noticed with regret that she did her best to avoid her. No, the elves of Hogwarts still didn’t forgive her for S.P.E.W.

The trunk appeared next to her.

With a sigh, Hermione glanced around the room, tattered furniture, almost spartan in its functionality and walls lined in books. The books belonged to her but the furniture was the same as when Severus Snape lived in these quarters.

With a frown, she started to choose books to take with her. _As if I’ll be able to focus on reading._ Adding the few thick leather-bound books in the trunk, she curled up on the sofa, gazing at the fire. She wanted to see him, even if eight years after the war did a precious little for his nature. Severus Snape was still as prickly and unpleasant as ever.

_How did I manage to be so stupid and fall for him out of all men?_

Minerva was wrong, she hadn’t been in love with him when she saved him. No, at the time she had been tired, confused but most of all stricken by the sheer injustice, unfairness—and appalled by her own behaviour and doubt in him. She’d wanted—no, she’d _had_ _to_ correct her mistake. So she had gone back to the Shack, and she had found him, not dead as she believed but still alive, if only barely.  And she’d made a deal, invoking the Magic of the Castle.

She knew the incantation and ritual, they were part of the same book Dumbledore suggested to her to look into regarding the Horcrux’’,she was strong enough, she had the love for the castle and its inhabitants—the castle never questioned her right to do what she did. Bargaining her own magic and sealing the deal with her own blood for the life of Severus Snape, the hero from the shadows.  By doing so, she had helped Hogwarts to mend itself. She had saved Snape’ life. She had felt good about her actions, expecting that at least she would have received some recognition for her actions, but the recognition that never came.

The Wizarding world at large wasn’t so keen on forgiving Severus Snape, or her for the fact that he survived. And that was something he had in common with Wizarding Britain—he wasn’t keen on forgiving her that fact either.

And still, she didn’t love him then. The love came later, while she and Harry worked to clear his name and keep him out of Azkaban. So, _he_ became her new driving force. He _was_ her inspiration when she chose Potions instead of the slow and futile Ministry career. He was the reason she applied for a job at the school, replacing his old position. She wanted to prove that being Slytherin wasn’t a bad thing when she applied for the Head of House position.

That was a blessing and a curse— the world at large despised her. Gryffindors called her a traitor, Slytherins called her an intruder, and Minerva called her a blessing. She did manage to raise the House reputation but at what cost? The Daily Prophet labelled her as “The golden ex-Gryffindor Princess of no house”.

Severus Snape called her every name she could think of but mostly referred to her as “that self-righteous meddling nuisance”.

And she still persisted, still did her best to impress the man - in spite of everyone, she still believed in the rightness of her decision. She lost her credibility as a war hero, not that she cared much about that, but it still hurt how unpopular she was now. It was junior school and a good part of Hogwarts years all over again, except—this time she didn’t have Harry and Ron by her side.

But she couldn’t go against her conscience.

During the trials, Wizengamot and newspapers tore the life of Severus Snape apart, examining and scrutinising everything. They commandeered his memories, all of them, making a good part of them public. Try as she might, she couldn’t stop them. It was a gross invasion of his privacy, especially because he wasn’t in any condition to defend himself or prevent them from taking his memories from him. It was such blatant disregard of personal rights that it left her reeling from anger on his behalf.

But at the same time, that same invasion on his privacy gave her the insight to what kind of man he was: a man that was frighteningly intelligent, capable, loyal, devoted and brave, a misunderstood and lonely soul who, from what she gathered, had never been on the receiving end of kindness or affection. Not if they didn’t come with strings attached.

Harry often joked that she had made Snape into one of her rescue projects.

She hadn’t, and he wasn’t. She found new respect for him, and after he recuperated from the near-death experience, she even found him attractive, if not conventionally handsome. Hermione couldn’t explain even to herself why or how she managed to fall in love with him. But she did. And she kept it a secret from everyone, especially him.

_Or so I thought._

Once Severus was freed, both by Wizengamot and from the hospital, she used Minerva as cover and gave him a place to stay: a small cottage on the outskirts of Forbidden Forest she’d received as a gift, in secret, from none other than Malfoy’s. As it turned out nobody, not even Voldemort himself or Severus knew that Malfoy’s possessed this cottage, and the ownership paper came with the letter, expressing very cold and nearly insulting gratitude for her efforts to save Severus. She had no desire to use that house, but she didn’t return it or sell it either, opting to rent it to Severus.

Well, maybe rent was a too strong word.

He was given permission, by Minerva as the cottage was still on the border of the school grounds, to live there free of charge. She supplied the cottage with a decent potions laboratory enabling him to open Owl post delivery potions business. And for all he knew, the cottage had belonged to Dumbledore, now school. The place was secluded and well guarded, which was good considering that many still cried out for a pound of his flesh.

At first, she tried to help him, bringing the best Muggle doctors to deal with his trauma, not an easy feat given that she had to Obliviate them later. She consulted Mediwitches and wizards all over the globe to see if there was anything that could reduce the consequences of the bite. She tried to be his friend, never for a moment forgetting that her love was all in vain.

Year, after year, she hoped to hear at least one word from him that wasn't an insult.

And finally, she gave up. Oh no, not on love, for some reason, no matter what he did it just made her love him more. She gave up on attempting to approach him. In fact, she made a firm decision not to be around him anymore. And she managed to hold on to that decision for almost a full year.

Until now.

Elf popped in again. “Tilly is to escort Potions Mistress to the gates.”

Notified her elf, tugging on her hand and her trunk. In the blink of an eye, she was transported to the cottage location.

The elf left her sitting in the middle of a large muddy puddle. Struggling to get up, she grumbled under her breath, reminding herself that elves have all the right in the world to feel angry and insulted.

Casting an angry _Tergeo_ she managed to bring herself in the at least decent state. She levitated her trunk feeling like her heart had taken up residence in her throat. Her palms slickened with a sudden rush of sweat. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Hermione walked determinedly towards the cottage.


	2. Sticks and stones

Severus frowned at his shaking hand. Over the past hour or so the pain had intensified, which normally wouldn’t be the problem, he's used to pain—except now it wasn't. Every time he attempted to move the wound reopened. So it forced him to lay still and wait for the almost ineffective healing charm to work.

He had no problem with dying. He did, however, think he at least deserved a less-painful death. Except, he knew — death wouldn’t come for him, not today and for a very long time.   

To his misfortune, whatever _Miss Granger_ did when she saved him, left some nasty consequences. One of them being that he could bleed for days and still be alive, and the only reason he knew that was because he tested the theory. He still could be injured or even sick, but he would cling to life no matter what. The age showed on his face; he was ageing, so the magic didn’t plan on keeping him eternally alive. He was sure that the Granger menace didn’t plan on that, but given the forces she summoned to her aid—he had rather a good idea who had _his beard_ in this particular ordeal.

At this point, Severus couldn’t decide on what he hated more—the fact that he's condemned to live a long life, his old confidant Dumbledore, the castle, himself, or _her_. Maybe the worst part of this unfortunate mishap was that hating her was an increasingly difficult task. 

Sometimes knowledge was a true curse. The life debt gave her immunity from his hexes. The debt he couldn’t even begin to repay considering the magnitude of her actions and the sheer complexity of the situation. That kind of sacrifice demanded an equal exchange—a life for a life. She bound him to herself, as always reckless in her actions, rendering him unable to resist her or to even dislike her. He was a prisoner once more, bound and chained.

Worst of all, she kept on adding to his debt. Hermione Granger—the self-righteous meddling menace, the new bane of his life—did her best to inflict on him every torture she could think of.  For years she exposed him to various doctors and mediwitches who poked at his body and through his brain.

So he used the only weapon he still had left against her — his sharp tongue. The rest of the world he could hex, and those who had the desire to apologise for their behaviour soon stopped bothering him. He didn’t want their apologies, the same way he didn’t feel the need to apologise for his actions. He did what had to be done. It wasn’t theirs to judge him or to pardon him; no living soul could do that.  

Finally, they left him to his own devices—alone. Maybe even a touch too much alone, even if he wasn’t willing to admit that to himself. Not normally—but this wasn’t a normal situation. He resented this weakness, his need to be among people, if not with them. Most of his life he lived, talked and at large he was annoyed by the constant presence of people around him. But now he missed that annoyance; now he was truly alone and abandoned. 

 _Be careful what you wish for,_ he thought bitterly.

At least he could still hate himself freely, and he had a lifetime to nurture that hatred. An empty, aimless life, without the goal or a purpose. In retrospect, he should have known better than to show his face in the village, but he needed those ingredients, and he couldn’t just wait for Wednesday when elf brought his supplies. It was almost expected that something like this is going to happen. What he didn’t expect is for someone to use his own spell on him or that his reflexes could be so uncharacteristically slow. And the worst part was, he couldn’t use the counter-curse on the wound in a timely manner due to the lack of consciousness.  

The loud squeal of the door and steps drew his attention. He took his wand from under the pillow, not caring that his hand was stained with his own blood. He may be weak but he won’t give up without the fight. Whoever managed to figure out where he lives, and break through his wards wasn’t a foe worth underestimating.

“Severus, where are you?” a familiar female voice called.

He lowered his wand, closing his eyes and suppressing a sigh. He stilled his breathing. If she can’t hear him—maybe she’d go away.

“Ah, here you are!”

“Begone from my sight, you crow,” he rasped.

His voice never returned fully after the bite, sounding deeper, a bit scratchy and raspy. His throat hurt if he spoke for too long in normal volume.

“What a warm welcome.” She ignored his request. “How bad is it?”

“It is none of your business, Granger.”

She didn’t pay any mind to what he was saying. Hermione came to stand next to the bed, scrutinising him with a gaze of a healer, which she was not.

“Don’t you dare—” he started, but she deftly removed his wand placing it still in his reach. _The nerve of her._

Hermione pulled on his covers, revealing deep, nasty gash over his chest that still oozed driblets of blood. Ignoring his glare full of undiluted anger and hatred she poked and probed at his flesh. He tried to swat her hand and failed—that didn’t improve his mood.  

“What curse?” she asked in a flat tone.

“It is not any concern of yours.” he grumbled, if he played his cards right she could give him _Dittany_ and walk away.  The small rush of relief he felt at the sound of her voice returned as anger, directed to himself and her.

“It is if you wish for me to perform counter-curse. I can’t just start to chant—”

“There is a library full of books in the next room, would you want me to wait while you go through all of them?” He screwed his face into a scowl.

“Right, I wager it is safe to assume that it is late for that.” She nodded, tilting her head left and right to gain a better look at the wound. “In fact, I’m quite sure that it is too late. It is amazing that you are still alive, really. One of your creations I believe.”

“Whether I live or die is no concern of yours, take your nose out of my business and your person out of my home.” he growled causing a fit of a cough that retaliated in form of reopening the wound. “Bloody hell you menace, be off with yourself!”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that. Headmistress banished me here until you are well.” She frowned. “Is the _Dittany_ still in the bathroom cupboard?”

He turned his head to the other side, not willing to even look at her. _Just bring the bloody tincture and vanish._ He could still feel her eyes on him. _Why does she has a need to look at me, not like I’m ogling material..._  

The rush of air and soft steps told him that she decided to move and search rather than wait for his reply.

The regret and the magnitude of his own mistakes plummeted on him like a ton of rocks the moment he was left alone. He almost felt ashamed for wishing for the medicine or relief from pain—if there was fairness in this world—he wouldn’t get any.  He was weak and seduced by sweet words and promises. He worked hard to correct his wrongs, at least as much as he could do. His biggest mistake couldn’t be corrected in any way, nothing short of Necromancy could bring back Lily. Nothing short of serious time travel could stop him from joining the Death Eaters.

Hermione returned; he could hear her. The clinks of glass on the wood told him that she brought more than _Dittany_.

“Now, try to be still, this will hurt.” she told him softly.

He turned his head and narrowed his eyes at her. “I’m certain that it will be less painful than having to suffer your presence.”

Her eyes grew wide and dark and misty but only for a moment before yellow spots started to glimmer with angry sparks. Without further warning, she drizzled the drops of Dittany over the wound.

_Bloody hell! Fuck!_

He locked his jaw, turning all his focus to the effort not to make a sound or move a muscle, falling at the latter. He could feel his left cheek twitching in an involuntary spasm. With regret, he realised that he couldn’t control it, no more than he could control the perspiration that coated his skin.

_What a pillock. I’ve gone soft._

She took another phial and brought it to his lips. “This is a pain relieving potion, it will help you—”

“Do I look like I need one? Begone from my sight witch,” he growled through clenched teeth. If she interpreted that as anger all the better.

But he had no such luck, her eyes told him clearly that she did think he needed it. Still, she capped the phial and placed it back on the table, frowning. He glared at her, and for a few moments, they had a staring contest until the signs of his old student started to emerge under the mask of calmness.

Finally, she sighed. “Very well, I’ll be in the kitchen, making food. You’ll need strength.”

“So I might be poisoned instead of dying from injury. Why to save me at all then?” he hissed.

“I might not be as good as elves, but you’ll live.” Her voice trembled, and she turned on her heel before he had a chance to give her another dose of his remarks as she rushed out of the room.

He felt the pang of guilt tugging on his anger, which only annoyed him further. He hated how magic worked its way, forcing him to feel guilty every time he’d been mean to her. Same way he hated how his skin would prickle under her touch, rare as it may be - more than a few times over the span of years she’d played his nurse. Yet, he couldn’t forgive the way magic forced him to feel about that.

To be grateful. He, of all people on this planet.

He refused.

He would never be.

He hated being forced and coerced, manipulated. _Like I’m one of the bloody elves._ He cringed at the thought of what she might call his project. _Probably something charming as A.S.S. in short for Annoying Severus Snape._ Another pang of guilt spread through the pain in his chest. Severus ground his teeth. He would break his wand if that meant getting rid of her, but Life Debts didn’t work that way.

He allowed himself a slow exhale, taking care to be quiet. _Dittany_ burned its way over his chest, and his too-sensitive skin reacted like it was on fire. His ear tugged, soft steps drawing his attention.

He could hear her breathing but she didn’t enter the room. At this point, he couldn’t decide what was worse - to be alone with his own thoughts or to call her out and let her know that he heard her. 

 _For a big war hero, she’s remarkably loud and clumsy._ Clearing his throat he grumbled. “Miss Granger, either come in or move away from the door.”

A sharp intake of breath and scruffing, she wasn’t at the door anymore.

_Good, that is good. I need to find a way to get rid of her, permanently. Let us see, what do I know about Life Debts?_

He tried to move but pain reminded him that the wound was still fresh. The chill he had gathered lying on the ground seemed to accumulate in his bones, only to be released now. That promised meal didn’t sound so bad to him, not that he would admit it.

Finally, he took his wand and cast a warming charm on the room, he knew better than to cast it on himself while healing, even if that would be more effective. With each curse or injury, his body recovered just a fragment slower as if he lost his ability to resist, maybe his slow reaction was part of that too? He wasn’t old at all, but his joints and back and muscles felt weary and tired.

Footsteps, this time more determined approached. The corner of his mouth tilted up for a second then flattened into a mask of loathing just before Granger walked in carrying a tray with a bowl of steaming chicken soup, judging by his sense of smell. His mouth watered, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten for almost a full day. He propped himself on his elbows.

“Stay lying down; don’t reopen your wound,” she told him.

“And, pray tell, how am I to eat soup while flat on my back?” He put as much venom as he could find in him in those words.

“I’ll raise your pillow.”

He narrowed his eyes, there was something in her voice. Raising one sarcastic eyebrow he allowed her to use the magic on his pillow until he was in an almost sitting position.

“Am I to presume you’ll insist on feeding me as well, _Miss Granger_?”

“Well, it wouldn't be smart to strain your wound…” she started, voice one of false confidence, two large blotches of red coloured her cheeks.

“Out of the question,” he growled. “I may not be able to hex you, Granger, but I’m far from defenceless.”

“But—” She tried again.

“Try, and you’ll have to explain to Headmistress _why_ you are back in school.”

“You—” she tried again.

“20 points from Gryffindor.” He smirked, knowing well that her blunder enabled him to take or award points even if he wasn’t a member of the staff anymore.

“That’s not fair!” Her eyes widened, full of moist.

“Do you want to make it another 20 with additional 20 to Slytherin? Can _your_ house afford to lose points?”

“You wouldn’t!” there was a fair amount of disbelief in her voice.

 _Time to make the message clear._ “Then be it so, Miss Granger. 20 points from Gryffindor and Slytherin.”

He watched her with a satisfied smirk, ignoring the tug of guilt, while she impersonated a fish out of the water. A weasel Patronus bounded into the room and spoke with Draco Malfoy’s voice before dissolving into thin air.

“Whatever you’re doing, Granger— _stop it_ ! Stop pissing him off. _Our_ house can’t deal with the loss of points on your account, and Minerva is fuming about Gryffindor.”

“Well, well, it appears I was correct.” He smirked at her, victory - small as it was -  brightened his mood overriding the growing discomfort in his chest.

“Fine. Eat the bloody soup by yourself, reopen your wound, see if I care.” She hissed at him. “I’ll go and set myself in the guest room.”

She levitated the tray onto his lap and marched out of the room. _To her credit, at least she doesn’t run away in tears anymore._ He took the spoon and carefully gathered a small amount of soup in it, first sniffing it than tasting just a drop with the tip of his tongue. _Hmmm, just soup, no other potions in it._ He took a mouthful, closing his eyes as the liquid warmed its way down. _Barely passable._

Stomping footsteps announced her before the door of his room opened with a loud bang, her voice vibrated with anger. “Why has the guest room been turned into the potions laboratory?”

“That is none of your concern, Granger.”

“I beg to differ.” Her face was steaming red.

“Oh, you may beg as much as you like, it still isn’t any of your concern,” he replied evenly, taking another spoon of soup with a grimace.

“You have state of the art laboratory down in the basement. I don’t see—” she started.

“And I do see that the next generations won’t be capable of brewing tea, little less a potion. We won’t even talk about the soup.” He let the spoon drop into the bowl with a clang, splashing a bit of soup around the tray. “In case, you still didn’t manage to learn- some potions demand—”

“Demand the daylight in order to maximise the potency and effectiveness of the ingredients, this is especially necessary when preparing the ointments for medicinal purposes. Other potion may demand better natural aeration, because fumes may react volatile with magic. In both cases, a laboratory should be placed above the ground and to the side where exposure to the sun is longest during the day.” She recited with a flat, monotonous voice.

“You, _Miss Granger_ , do old Slughorn a justice. You still exhibit the same inability to pass as Potions Mistress.” He directed his eyes to the bowl.

“Well, the Potions committee disagrees with you.” Her voice smug, with the corner of his eye he noticed that she raised her chin and squared her shoulders.

“I bet they do. Don’t get me wrong, you are after all a _competent brewer_ , you can follow a recipe to the letter, even the most complicated one. You, however, do lack the imagination and sense of the artist. Take this soup, for example, I can tell that you followed the recipe without making a single mistake.”

“And on a base of what you can tell that?” she sounded insulted.

“The soup is unpleasantly greasy, vegetables are overcooked and it is bland. I know, because you used my mother's recipe. As a result, _to my misfortune_ , perfectly recreating the taste she would produce.”

“One should think that you should feel—” she started sounding condescending.

“My mother, _Miss Granger_ , was very competent Potioneer and a lousy cook.” He smirked at the soup. “The book is kept for- shall we say _sentimental_ reasons, _not_ for its original use.”

“All right, you don’t like the soup, you are still eating it and that is enough for me.”

“I have no other options at the moment,” He snapped.

“Fine. This still does not solve the matter of where am I going to sleep,” she snapped at him.

 _I believe this is a point or several in my favour._ “Sleep wherever you like, just don’t move anything from the workbench. Some of the tinctures are in a very delicate stage.”

She narrowed her eyes at him and left without another word. He resumed his eating thinking that having a familiar if not the most favourite taste wasn’t such a bad thing at this moment, it was almost comforting in a way.


	3. Give me strength

Getting out of his room, Hermione thought she might start breaking things or crumble and cry, neither would solve the situation but her muscles vibrated from pent-up frustration. It was beyond her how he still managed to grate on her nerves, seemingly effortlessly. 

She went to the living room and then stopped, no, she refused to sleep on the sofa. _Where is my bed? What did he do with the bed?_ She felt panicked, that bed was one of the few things she kept from her childhood home. After the war, she restored her parents' memories, but the lingering distance and coldness remained. They decided to stay in Australia, so she packed their things, keeping only a few items for herself. Over the years, they drifted apart completely, and those few memories were all she had of them.

“Where is the bed from other room?!” she called loudly, trying to suppress anger and panic, and failing.

“In the attic along with other useless clutter,” came the gruff reply. She could have sworn that she could hear a concealed chuckle in his voice, but a cough forced her to rethink. The pang of guilt dulled the edge of annoyance a bit, the panic subsided. She all but ran to the back of the long hallway where the stairs to the attic were.

Everything in the house was meticulous, including the stairs and the attic. The attic, however, was crammed with things, boxes upon boxes unopened and sealed. And none of it belonged to her, Minerva or school. _Who would know that he has so many things?_ It took her a good half an hour before she found the box with her name on it and inside all her possessions, shrunken and neatly packed.

Taking the bed down, she briefly wondered if he knew that stuff in that box belonged to her would he be still careful while packing them? Somehow, Hermione decided that sometimes not knowing might be the best.

Once she was in a hallway she stopped, frowning. Now she had the bed, the question was where to put it? The library was too cold for sleeping and constantly burning fire would dry air too much which might endanger the books. Part of the library was already there when she received the house, and even if they originally belonged to the Malfoys she cherished them, same as her own books and the ones Severus added when he moved in.

Sleeping in the laboratory wasn’t smart. The only possible place… _No, I couldn’t. Or maybe I could. Oh, this will be- interesting._ With newly found determination she entered his room. Severus was still in the almost sitting position, but the tray and an empty bowl of soup were on the nightstand.

Giving him just a passing glance she pulled the wand out of her sleeve and levitate the chest of drawers that was placed across the bed to the joining wall, next to the armoire.

“What. Do. You. Think. You’re. Doing. Granger.” He growled at her back, pronouncing every word with a threat.

Hermione shivered, he hadn't used that tone with her for a very long time, reminding her of the teacher he once was. Placing the bed on the floor, she gulped silently. Giving herself a time while casting a silent _Finite_. Once the bed was restored to its original size, she glanced at him over her shoulder.

“Isn’t it obvious? I found a place where I’ll sleep.” She gave him one slightly bloodthirsty smile.

“Out of the question! Take that wherever you—” he started, the muscle in his jaw visibly trembling.

“You said, wherever  I like. Well since you turned the only other available place to the additional laboratory, there aren’t many other options.”

“I refuse to—” He stopped, then grinned, raising an eyebrow. “Have you ever even shared a room with a man before, Granger?”

“Plenty of times. I lived in a tent with two of them for months.” She moulded her face into a mask of indifference.

“I didn’t ask you about the boys—”

“Indeed, you asked about the men. I survived sharing a tent with two hormonal boys in very stressful circumstances. I think I can manage to share a room with a sick man for a few days.” She shrugged. “Besides, it is not like you are my favourite choice for a roommate either.” _A lie, blatant lie._

She approached his bed and cast another _Finite_ on the pillow, letting him flop back. He let out one grunt.

“Your bedside manners leave a lot to be desired.” He panted through clenched teeth.

“Sorry.” She offered an apology, feeling ashamed. Even if he did step on her last nerve, he was injured and there was no excuse for her behaviour. Besides, this was Severus Snape, the person who resented her more than any living person on this entire planet, she should consider herself lucky for not being hexed.

She tilted her head, taking into her view his clammy skin and watery eyes, not watery but more like they were full of oil. She placed a hand on his forehead and he jerked his head.

“Do not touch me.” he hissed.

“You have a fever.” she announced her conclusion.

“Mastering the skill of stating the obvious?” He scoffed.

“Apparently so.” She mumbled, her brain working fast. _Is it from the wound? Did I bring any medications that can heal an infection?_

She leaned, hovering over his chest, examining the wound, it was pink around the corners and skin was knitting nicely. There were no obvious signs of inflammation. She frowned. A tortured sigh came from the pillow above her head.

“The cause of the fever is a common cold, Granger.” Snape drawled.

“When did you get cold?” She regretted her question the moment it left her mouth.

“Did you care to look outside? I'd say it is the season, if _I remember correctly_ , half of the House is sniffling, looking for a way to skip classes. And you should be stuck in the Dungeons, night after sleepless night brewing Pepper-Up Potion.”

“I did, that is I was until Headmistress sent me here.” She sighed. “Do you have any in the  storage?”

“No, and standard Pepper-Up Potion won’t work on me.” He sounded like he was talking to a particularly dense student and her eyes fluttered against her will.  

“When did you become resistant on the common cold potion?” She looked at him, frowning. Now that she thought about it she never saw him sick. Injured yes, frantic—more than once, but never even with a sniffle.

“I’m resistant to a specific ingredient, not the potion itself.”

“Right. What ingredient?” She asked, thinking about what can be replaced and to what effect.

“The main one, the one you can’t replace.” He informed her with almost a smile.

“Well then, hot tea with lemon it is.” She sighed and pulled the thin cover over him.

Taking the tray in the kitchen, she started to prepare tea, summoning the elf and giving him a list of ingredients she’d need if things get worse. She whisked her wand out and summoned a small arctic fox. The sight of her altered Patronus still boggled her. She sent Minerva message, informing her of Snape’s state.

 

Later that evening his fever was high, so much so that his teeth chattered even if it was obvious that he tried to control it. To make matters worse she couldn't put the cold wrap around his chest. So she opted for keeping the wet towel over his eyes and cold wraps on his feet. He complained, hissed and insulted, but not as sharp as he usually did.

Near midnight his state didn’t show signs of improving, Hermione’s heart quivered in fear. Abandoning all that she learned as Potions Mistress she started to go through what she could remember from books her parents had on Muggle medicine. A few words swirled in her brain, sending tremors to her already unsteady hands. _High fever—the possibility of brain damage—high fever—the possibility of brain damage…_ On and on, until she could scream or cry.  

With a shaky sigh she summoned her purse, the tattered old thing was still heavily charmed, and dug through it until she managed to find the blister pack of Ibuprofen. True, medicine worked on pain but it could help with fever as well. She plucked one pill from the shiny foil and took the glass of water.

“Severus, here, take this.” She lifted the pill to his lips.

“What are you trying to do?” he mumbled through tightly closed lips, glaring at her, refusing the medicine.

“It… It is a Muggle medicine, it will help you with your temperature and pain.”

“I refuse.” Came a muffled growl from him.   

Letting her hand fall down she tried to blink away the growing sense of fear. He stared at with dark oily eyes, feverish and angry. His breaths laboured and softly hissing, warm- she could feel it even from where she sat. His skin dry looking, radiated heat.

“Your fever is too high, and I can’t use the cold wrap on you, you are resistant to Pepper-me-up… I have to do something to lower your temperature.” she tried to keep the desperation out of her voice, it wouldn’t do good to show him any weakness.

“Leave it, it will pass.” He tried to glare her down, but from the position flat on his back, a healing wound on his chest and watery eyes, she thought he looked vulnerable more than intimidating.

She frowned at him. _He’s worse than students! Well, if that is what I must do…_ She placed the glass back on the nightstand and using her wand she silently summoned a jar of mustard. Snape gave her one attempt of smugness that failed its mark once more.

“Fine, suit yourself. Now, you can _choose_. A pill- small, harmless and easy. I can use this.” She raised the jar.

“To make me some sort of a meal? That _is_ a threat on its own right, come to think of it.” he rasped, sounding slightly slurry.

“No, it is old Muggle trick, you smear a thick layer of mustard on the soles of the person that has a high temperature. It works, but good luck with cleaning your feet after and I _can guarantee to you_ your feet will be yellow for _days_.” Hermione said with a note of satisfied malice, she hated it when her mother chose this method as an alternative to medicaments.

“Or…” She made a pause, waiting and continuing to talk with a smirk only when it seemed like he is going to say something. “I can take you to the bathroom, disrobe you and plunge you in a tub full of cold water.” Involuntary, a grin spread over her lips at the look of horror on his face, ignoring the sting of pain in her heart she narrowed her eyes. “Take your pick.”

“You, out of my home, now!” he hissed, his pale face turning flushed from easily readable anger as much as from the heat that radiated from his body.

“No, not on the menu.  Take. Your. Pick.”

“Sod off,” he growled.

“Fine, bathtub it is.” She nodded and placed the jar of mustard and the pill on the nightstand.

He stared daggers in her direction. Hermione focused all her attention on selling her hands, that had a sudden need to shake. Turning on her heel she made a determined but slow walk toward the door.

“You wouldn’t dare—” his words sounded laboured and she could hear huffs of his breathing, resisting the urge to turn she replied.

“Try me.”

There was an angry growl and then he squeezed through clenched teeth. “Very well, I’ll take the pill. With a bit of luck, it will be a poison.”

Hermione smiled at the door.


	4. Problems and solutions

The heat was surrounding him like a bubble, he could hear soft puffs from the other part of the room where Granger placed her bed. He was in that awful state where he was still sleeping and at the same time aware of his surroundings. And he knew he was still sleeping because of the familiar images of the recurring dream danced behind his closed eyelids. 

_He wandered through the maze, its hedges trimmed at least 2 meters high, small leaves flickering on the soft breeze—  He can hear her laughter, the rustling of the grass under her feet._

_He tried to_ _follow her, but she is elusive._

_From time to time, he could see a glimpse of red locks wavering in and out of view between the leaves— just out of reach, a hint and they were gone._

But this dream was different, it changed. Severus wished that he could wake up but images kept moving.

_He turned to the corner, and she was there, in his arms. The smell of almonds and coconuts from her hair taking over his senses. She smiled at him, a small hand pressed on his cheek, he leaned into the touch._

_“Severus” she whispered softly._

_He cupped her cheeks in his palms, relishing in the feel of her skin. Her face close, so close and he couldn’t resist it. He moved closer tilting his head until he could caress her lips with his._

At his point, he expected to wake up, after all, he never went this far in his dreams. But he’s also reluctant to do so, the dream is so vivid, so visceral that he felt her presence on an almost physical level.

_The kiss deepened, soft lips responding, parting to explored his— He allowed himself to relax, to just live in the sensation, in her taste and smell and feel. His hands slid from her face, trailing the soft line of her neck, thumbs exploring the silky skin at the hollow of her throat and collarbones._

_“Severus, please, don’t— We can’t—” her voice is muffled and so sad, the words buzzed between them, still joined._

_He moved to gaze at her bright eyes, his heart bleeding,_ _wounded by her words and her tone. But her eyes are the wrong colour, they are brown now with the golden specks in them. Her hair darkened from radiant red to a dull brown. Her image started to shimmer and morph—_

_“Lily?” he asked, afraid and confused._

Sharp pain brought him back to reality, the burning heat pooled into his cheek. Severus blinked a couple of times, now awake. His arms released their hold on whatever was struggling in them. When his eyes adjusted to the gloom of the room, and the mist of dream dispersed he was faced with a fuming image of Hermione Granger.  

“Granger?” he rasped, not even sure what happened or why is she next to his bed in the middle of the night.

“You— You—” she was choking on her words, her hair crackled with angry sparks. She turned her wand to the nearest wall leaving the singed mark on it.

“You will have to pay for the repairs,” Severus informed her, suddenly angry. Who did she think she is, to wake him up from a dream?

“Next time I’ll just splash you with cold water.” she hissed and turned, walking to her bed.

“You are welcome to leave at any time. In fact, I implore you to do so...” he called after her.

He was now faced with the image of her back in a scant nightgown. His gaze slid over her fit form, petite but appealing to the eye. She wasn’t slim or slender, still, she presented a lovely image especially when the curve of her hips and determined, angry steps gave a nice jiggle to her ass.

“I just might take you up on that offer.” her voice sounded loud in a silent room.

 _What got her knickers in the twist?_ Severus briefly wondered, before allowing his mind to recall the dream. The softness of skin under his fingers still present, the same as the taste on his lips. The smell of almonds…

He frowned. Lily never used almonds, she didn’t like that scent, so why would his addled brain call up that scent? He tried to recall all of his lovers, a small number of them as it was, still not even one of them used almond based scent. In fact, the only person he knew that used that scent was Granger.

Granger…

His brain went from sluggish to full speed in the blink of an eye. The scent. The taste of mint and black tea, the struggling… _Bloody hell!!!_ Letting his features rearrange to their liking he raised an arm to wipe it over his mouth and stopped. His hand hanging mid-air, still not reaching its destination.

_When was the last time I kissed someone? Had any physical contact with someone?_

Years, by his account. He didn’t have many opportunities during the war, and it was less than safe after the war. If he was being honest with himself, he wouldn’t mind a bit of intimacy, even with Granger. _Beggars can’t be choosers_ , supplied his brain. She was good looking, not too thin, filled proportionally on all the right places.

He wouldn’t mind, that is, but for a few major obstacles. One of the biggest being tied to her by a Life Debt. He refused, _refused_ to bend to that kind of magic. There was a question of social standards, the fact that once she was his student and all that age difference… He wasn’t that much concerned with it, she wasn’t his student anymore, more importantly, she was adult now, capable of bringing her own decisions.

Above all, she was the _only_ female willing to come near him and not to hex him, at least not all the time. _What am I thinking?_

He moved and wet sheets unpleasantly stuck to his skin. He pressed his still lingering arm to his neck, the fever was down. He trailed lightly his fingers over the chest wound, it seemed that even the wound was healing nicely, the skin was soft and overly sensitive but knitted.

Tossing off the soaked covers he sat up in bed, Severus still felt weak, slightly dizzy but strong enough to get up and replace soaked beddings with dry ones.

“What are you doing?” her voice sounded mildly panicked.

“I’m going to change wet…” he started, but she interrupted him, panic now clear.

“But you are only in your boxer-b… Are those briefs?”

He smirked to the darkness, time to play with the menace. “As I recall, you said that you can handle sharing the room with a man. You did share a tent with two boys I believe, did you not?”

“Well, I did, but they had enough decency not to undress in front of me.” her voice started to hit the shrill notes.

“You were the one threatening to undress me last night, I really see no difference...” he replied flatly.

“I’m going to take a shower while you change.” she grumbled, standing up and covering herself with a blanket made in Molly Weasley style.

“You weren’t so shy just a few moments ago.” he couldn't resist the jab.

“A few moments ago you had a nightmare and a few moments ago was before you attempted to molest me, calling out another woman’s name.” She hissed.

“And what bothers you more, my alleged attempt to _molest_ you or calling out the wrong name?” He took precaution to sound flat but he found her response amusing.

She marched past him, not giving him the answer. Once alone he allowed himself to grin. Maybe the magic didn’t work only on him, now that could create the opportunity. He frowned to the darkness, that wasn’t the condition he would concede to.

He changed the soaked undergarment and his sheets, it was easy with magic not to strain his freshly healed wound.  Returning to bed he contemplated options and possibilities. It could be mutually beneficial if she would accept his idea, provided that she didn’t expect any emotions involved. After all, Granger appeared to be a healthy female, and from experience, he knew that life as a teacher didn’t provide many opportunities. But first, he had to get rid of that pesky Life Debt.  

He might contact Lucius, he already exhausted all other resources, his own and Hogwarts library, but Lucius might have rarer and not so legal texts.

Time ticked away. _Where is she?_ It seemed like she was too long in the bathroom for a simple shower. He could still hear the water running. _Did she drown there? I hope not, I have no desire to deal with that mess._

Severus frowned and stood up, he padded to the bathroom door. There was a muffled sound coming from the other side. _Well, she’s alive…_ He was about to walk away when another sound came through the steady thunder of water. _Did she just moan?_ He crept near the door and placed his ear on them. Now he could hear sighs, panting and moans muffled by the sound of the shower.

_Well, well…_

He would gloat, even use that to taunt her later on if it wasn't for his own reaction to the sounds coming from the bathroom. Moving away from the door he quietly rushed back into the room and under the covers. But the damage was already done.

The visuals would suffice in his situation, but the unsuspected audio raised the bar.  It raised more than a bar which presented a conundrum. Usually, in these situations, the solution to the growing problem was fairly simple but now he couldn’t apply it. All his snarking and false bravado aside, he had no desire to be caught, by Ganger no less, in such situation. He might use the bathroom if it weren’t already occupied…

The thought of her, pleasuring herself in his bathroom didn’t help, in fact, it made the swelling problem speed up. With a groan he turned to the side, pressing the heel of his palm to a merely twitching appendage. The effect wasn't as he desired it to be. A part of his brain joined in, supplying the images both real and conjured.

The sound of water stopped, and soon he could hear the door opening and closing, then the room’s door let the trail of light. The strong scent of almonds and coconut spread through the room. Severus pressed his lips, locking his teeth. He feigned sleep.

The smell grew stronger. Soft and slightly damp palm brushed his forehead, one quiet sigh breezed over his skin, few droplets of water fell on him. At long last she backed away and padded to her bed, he could hear the mattress crackling.

Silence filled the room once more. Severus tried to will away his uncomfortable erection with no luck. Resorting to the only outlet he could afford, he forced himself to imagine that he’s once more a teacher, taking points left and right for the smallest of transgressions. That helped if only marginally, so he clung to that fantasy until sleep mercifully came to him.


	5. When it rains it pours

Hermione tried to call on a sleep but it wouldn’t come to her, so she finally settled with just keeping her eyes closed. The room gradually gained more brightness, Severus was up with the crack of dawn. She could hear him walking around the room, opening drawers and armoire. 

She will allow herself a few more moments of rest. In reality, she wasn’t willing to face him, not yet. Not after what she did in the bathroom last night. It wasn’t that she escaped the room to give a vent to her charged up emotions, she wasn’t a prude nor a blushing virgin. But the sole thought he might have figured it out why she spent so much time in the bathroom held her firmly in place.

But what were her options?

She could step away and remove herself from the situation that threatened to pulverise her already broken heart. The second option was to see if she could deal with being just a convenient body while his heart still belonged to another. She could try to seduce him, with the hermit's life he leads, she might even have a chance- but was she willing to settle for that?

She turned in bed with a huff, staring at the ceiling.

If she could she would release him from his Debt, she didn’t want to shackle him like that. She researched how to free him… And for all that time, her magic whispered to her, in her heart she already knew… There was no escape to either of them.

The Life Debt kept her out of the harm’s way- he couldn’t harm her.

The magic she performed used her as a conduit- castle used her to keep Severus alive.

Neither of those two obliged her to be in his vicinity or in the Hogwarts, for all she knew she could be a world apart and no one would see the difference.

The only thing that kept her close was her own heart. And that was the problem, she couldn’t tell him how free he actually was, not without revealing too much. To lay open her heart to one Severus Snape was the worst thing she could do. He would crush her like a bug with only a few chosen words. He nearly destroyed her last night with the kiss so tender that she melted into it powerless to resist and with Lily’s name on his lips.

Hermione wished that her heart and her body could listen to her brain. Her brain was logical and clinical, meticulous in accessing the situation, calculating the pros and the cons and finding the best solution- to run as fast and far as she could.

Her heart quivered and shrunk in pain at the thought of leaving him. Her body was aflame at just the glimpse at his body. She never felt like that for any of her previous lovers, a futile attempt to replace what she will never have.

Finally giving up on the rest Hermione get up and made all the necessary preparations for the day. She found Severus in the living room, he was standing next to an open window and arguing with an owl, the bird was obviously reluctant to go to the desired location.

_Coffee, I need coffee if I want both of us to survive today._

She went to the kitchen and found that Severus already made her a coffee, strong and black judging by the smell. He left it in a mug under the warming charm. Hermione smiled at the mug before her heart sank down.

_I am truly pathetic, I should pack and go. He’s fine, walking and arguing, I’m not needed here anymore._

Severus came to the kitchen, dark and prickly. He took the other mug and sat at the table, ignoring her completely. Hermione pondered how to start a conversation without triggering an outburst of anger when an ethereal tabby bounded into the room.

“What is going on there?!! I won’t tolerate this.” Minerva’s voice was sharp and cross, it exploded in the small kitchen making them flinch. “Severus Snape, I will be at your door at 10 in the morning. You better lower your wards or I’ll blast right through them, I swear on Gryffindor's sword.”

The cat turned to mist and vanished, leaving them to blink at each other in confusion.  

“What was that all about?” she asked in a low voice.

“Maybe she’s coming to get you back.” he replied, his face a mask of disgruntlement.

“I doubt that. She’d send an elf.” Hermione mumbled.

“One can still hope.” he dampened.

 _Yes, one can only hope, but it didn’t sound like that,_ she thought.

“For your information, you insufferable chit, I have known Minerva much longer than you have been alive. I know bloody well how she sounded.” he hissed at her.

“I’d appreciate if you have at least enough common decency to…” she started, suddenly angry but he cut her off.

“Then I suggest to think a bit quieter, or at least not out loud.”

She felt her face heating up. Hermione decided that it is best if she just drank her coffee and not speak at all. Not think if possible. Severus smirked at her, casting a silent _Tempus,_ they had at least good half an hour before Minerva’s visit.

Finishing her coffee, she washed the mug Muggle way and placed it to dry. On the door, she turned to him.

“I’ll talk to Minerva, and if your wound healed to the satisfactory level, and your high temperature do not return tonight, I’ll be gone from here tomorrow morning.”

Severus hummed, but his expression didn’t change. She took the book from her trunk and went to read in the living room, waiting for Minerva’s arrival. At least reading prevented her from think.

Promptly at 10, the blast from the outside shook the windows. Severus came rushing from the kitchen.

“Bloody woman, stubborn as a mule.” he grumbled making intricate patterns in the air with his wand.

Moments later, Minerva all but barged into the living room. Her posture rigid, face tight, lips drew into a thin line. Not giving them an opportunity to speak she started from the entrance.

“I swear, the pair of you— You behave like children. I won’t tolerate that anymore. Severus Snape _why_ all the houses are missing more than a hundred points each? Are you aware what time of the year is? I am certain that you know, at this time not a single house managed to get 100 points.”

“Came to held me a lecture on the subjects I already know, Minerva?” sharply asked Severus. Hermione frowned, was he trying to provoke Minerva’s ire further?

“Then explain to me, _young man_ , what prompted you to take as much as 120 points from some houses?” Minerva glared at Severus, not backing down. “And why, _why_ are Hogwarts wards lowest since the day of Voldemort’s attack?”

At those words Severus twitched, his entire body pulling back as if he was hit. He recuperated fast enough, his face hardening, frown making deep lines between his eyes.

“I wouldn't know Minerva, you are the Headmistress,” He said, his voice icy cold.

“Well, I know I’m doing more than I should keep them up. But given that school is more attuned to you than it is to me, Severus, I suggest that you answer that question.”

Hermione swallowed loudly, drawing the attention of both of them to herself. She squirmed under the cold anger that radiated in equal measures from Minerva and Severus. Gulping once more, she offered the solution in a thin voice.

“Minerva, Severus had a high temperature last night; I’m sure it is not deliberate. Maybe the school just aided his fast recovery.”

“They are still barely holding. If that was the case they would return to normal—or what passes as normal these days. No! This has to stop.”

“You,” she accused, pointing her finger at Severus. “You are the one to blame. The school reacts to you, so you will deal with your problem. I don’t care how. She,” Minerva said, turning the accusing finger to her but still talking to Severus. “She will stay here until I deem that everything is back to normal—and by that, I don’t mean what was considered normal in past years. I mean normal, the way it should be.”  
  
“Or else?” Severus’ cold voice cut through the room, deadly cold.   
  
“Or I’ll quit and name you as my successor. You can return to Hogwarts and resume your role as Headmaster. You can deal with all the quirks that the school has to offer these days. And in case you have a death wish, it might just happen that you do die a bit faster than you thought you would.”

Hermione pulled her shoulders, trying to make herself as invisible as possible in this situation. Minerva’ reaction sent her back to the school days when this formidable woman was her Head of House. However, she couldn’t remember seeing Minerva losing her temper like this. Hermione didn’t want to be on the receiving end of what Headmistress had to dish out.

Apparently, Severus didn’t have the same issues. His stance didn’t change, if nothing his posture reminded her of her old Professor, stern, unyielding and dangerous. “I will not set a foot in that school again, I’ve told you that already,” Severus growled.

“Then I suggest that you deal with your problems before you are forced to return.” Minerva raised her chin and glanced at her. “You, Miss Granger are officially on sabbatical until this matter is resolved, one way or the other.”

With that Minerva turned on her heel her last words echoing behind her as she left the house. “I give you two months to fix this.”  

Hermione still refused to let out the air that accumulated in her lungs, now choking her. She couldn’t say if she was more worried that angry Headmistress would return or that sound of exhaling might trigger Severus into a rage. She was less than prepared to deal with more rage, certainly not without hexing.

To her surprise, Severus’ features shifted from frown to almost amusement, if amusement would show in the jerky twitches of both hands and tips of his lips. Dark glimmer in his eyes gained a sort of velvety softness. He barked at the entrance door.

“Stubborn as a mule, old crone.”

Hermione blinked, not fully trusting her ears. There was a note of fondness in Severus’ voice, something she never heard before. Only a moments later her heart plummeted to the depths of her curling stomach. _No escape, I’m doomed._ Her fate sealed with purring liquid silk of his voice- venom and honey mixed together.

“Well, Granger, it appears that your residence here just turned into a permanent fixture for an unforeseeable period of time.”

“It is only two months… Um, yes. Well, I’ll see to clearing out the spare room…” she started, how precious little time she needed to regress to her old habits and feel like she was a student once more in the face of the rage of those she considered her superiors.

“You will do no such thing. _You_ may be on the sabbatical, but I still have to earn my livelihood.” The flat tone reflected in the challenging bow arched over glimmering eyes. She was missing something, something important.

_Why isn’t he more enraged?_

“As I told you before, stop voicing your thoughts and I won’t know what you think.” his voice cut through the air like a knife. “I suggest that you return to bed and sleep off that habit before you achieve to _see me_ enraged.”


	6. Life Debt and other choices—part 1

Two weeks after Minerva’ visit Hermione was ready to jump out of her skin. Severus kept her on her toes constantly. He was still the same: grouchy and with the attitude of an angry porcupine. She couldn't even tell what could set him off. At the same time, each morning she would wake up to a coffee or a tea. With an almost clairvoyant precision, he would guess if she needed the coffee or the tea in the morning. Hermione was under the impression that he knew her better than she knew herself, and he didn’t even pay attention to her most of the time.

When she thought about it, Severus was a puzzle she couldn’t solve, like a piece that didn’t fit. He’d snarl and threaten but then she would wake up with an extra blanket on the particularly cold morning.

Most of the time he spent either brewing or reading documents delivered to him by regal looking owl. Short temper outbursts and annoyance usually accompanied the owl post. Quickly Hermione came to detest the bird, even though the poor animal had nothing to do with the news it delivered.

It was a snowy afternoon, and she was in front of the fireplace, curled under the blanket and _not_ focused on the book she held in her lap. Each of her attempts to steer Severus toward addressing the task Minerva gave him she’d face the same reply “ _I’m working on it._ ” He worked on _something_ , but on what was a mystery to her.

All she knew was that she was stuck in this situation until the matter is resolved. Each day she’d add another stitch to her already torn heart. At this point, she’d agree to anything just to get the opportunity to save herself, while there was still something worth saving.

Steps, determined and quiet, the one she learned how to hear, passed in the direction of the kitchen. She sighed quietly.

~ S ~ S ~ S ~

Severus frowned at his own notes. Lucius turned out to be very forthcoming regarding his request, over the span of the past two weeks he received more than a few texts about Life Debt. Finally, he could tie up all the scattered bits and pieces of the information. Two days ago he was certain that in his hand he held a solution if one could call it that way.

The anger boiled in him, anger mixed with a hefty dose of frustration.

Two weeks of sharing the room with her, her nightly showers and her scent filling the air were more than enough to spike his ire. Ire at what or who was hard to tell at this point. He did what he usually did, clenched his teeth and muddled through. This latest development, however, was highly unsettling.

 _How, in the name of Salazar, can I ask her something like that?_ His hands clenched, balling into fists. _Why does the solution have to be so complicated?_

He paced around the kitchen, two days of postponement was more than enough time. But the question he had to ask was- _personal_. If somebody asked him something like that he’d blast him or her into dust. Granger might not be as volatile, but he was sure that she won’t react well to the question.

Digging through the cabinet he dug out one dusty bottle of Ogden’s. He didn’t drink, as a rule, this bottle was in the house when he moved in, but if any occasion demanded a bit of _Dutch courage_ this was it. He pored good two fingers in a water glass and downed them in a gulp.

_This is vile._

He tried to stop a cough while his insides burned from the sharp burn of alcoholic beverage. But once the unpleasantness was gone, a warmth settled in his stomach, spreading pleasantly through his limbs. He was already ready to pay any price to earn his freedom, so nothing she might say couldn’t deter him from his goal. Severus eyed the bottle, with a frown and sharp nod he poured another two fingers in one glass, and two more in another.  

Taking the glasses and the bottle he made his way to the living room.

“Granger, we need to discuss a matter of high importance,” he called from the door and she jumped as if she was a startled rabbit. He cleared his throat handing her the glass. “Take this.”

He watched as she took the glass as if he was giving her something that might explode and sniffed, wrinkling her nose. “What is this?”

“Ogden’s finest.” Try as he may, he couldn’t sound neutral.

“I don’t drink…”

“I believe that the situation will demand it at one point at least.” _This is not a good start._ He frowned then sat across her, watching as she put her glass untouched.

“What kind of conversation drives the participants to drink?” her head tilted, eyes squinting at him.

“I know how I can get rid of the Life Debt, but in order to do so I’ll need your cooperation.”

She blinked at him, her lips parted just a fraction, enough to allow the two front teeth to bite into her full bottom lip. He frowned at her and Granger pulled back a fraction before squaring her shoulders. His frown deepened.

“Look, I know you want— Well, if there is a way I’d be the first to offer you the freedom you desire but—” she started, tripping on her own words and he narrowed his eyes at her. The effect was instantaneous, she stopped talking.

“The fact that you don’t know the way doesn't necessarily mean that the way does not exist. It does and I found it,” he said in a firm tone. “However, that will demand a- sacrifice on your part.”

“What sacrifice? I mean, yes, of course.” Huge brown eyes blinked at him, there was no hesitation in them, confusion but no hesitation.

 _Merlin, she is serious._ He felt sick to the stomach in the face of her eagerness. His palms slicked, mouth felt dry but his mask didn't change nor his voice revealed any of his inner turmoil. “According to my research, all I have to do is to enable you to fulfil our heart’s deepest desire.”

Her eyes widened, saucer big and filled with terror. What could be that bad to cause this reaction? Her shaky hand pressed on her lips and tears started to roll. Suppressing the need to fist his hands he smirked at her.

“Not so eager to help now, are you?”

She shook her head, tears still rolling down her cheeks, her voice was surprisingly firm, clashing with her appearance. “No, I’ll do it, if-if that is truly the only way.” she took one shuddery breath and directed her eye on his “But, I-I’ll need proof, to review your primary source. I need to know, before—”

“There is one more option, but I discarded that one. I will, however, provide you with all materials.”

“What other option, maybe—” there was a glimmer of hope in her eyes and stomach coiled.

“Unless you are suggesting for us to perform Necromancy, resurrect the Dark Lord and his pet snake so he could attempt to kill you this time...” he asked silkily, raising an eyebrow.

She shook her head. “And you are sure, absolutely positive there is no other way?”

“Quite,” he confirmed, the pressure he felt inside was unbearable, he had the need to argue, to spill the excess of whatever feeling this was.

For a few moments, it appeared as though Granger would ask him to supply her with his research materials, something he was reluctant to do given the not so legal sources he used. _What do you want, little girl, that is so mortifying?_ He hoped he wouldn’t have to kill anyone. His heart stopped beating, then resumed at a faster pace at the thought that she might want love from some man—that was out of his capability to provide.

Her face was beet red now, streaked with a steady flow of tears with a mask of anguish. She sniffled and nodded taking a deep breath.

“Very well, I’ll tell you—but, you may not like the answer. In fact, I'm certain you won’t.”

“Let me be the judge of that,” he replied flatly.

Everything inside him vibrated, buzzing from the excitement, he will get his freedom at long last. Severus pointedly ignored the freezing sensation that slowly climbed up his chest, like a frost over the window.


	7. Life Debt and other choices—part 2

Hermione was mortified. Life Debt or not, he would kill her. Yes, she wanted to help, but… She already knew this; she sensed it even if she had no tangible proof to support her understanding. Hermione hated the fact that magic sometimes was so intuitive—how one can explain and reason _intuition_? 

More importantly, what her heart wanted she could never attain. So maybe, maybe she should lower her expectations, settle for less- be sensible and take what she can get. Yes, that might work, if he doesn’t kill her by tying her up like a sack and leaving her to freeze outside. She was pretty sure he could still do that.  

Glancing at his impassive face, Hermione tried to get a grip on her feelings. Feelings that galloped through her, rampaging like a runaway train, destroying everything in their path. If she applied a bit of tact— maybe he won’t ask too many questions, and he’ll give up on the idea.  

“Well, there is a- man, you see. An unattainable man.” She lowered her eyes, fixating on the burned spot on the rug where probably escaped hot coal from the fireplace singed it. “One that could or would never return my feelings. At-at this point, I’d settle for anything he could offer willingly, for as long as he would offer. Still, not going to happen. Ever. So you see, that is why I asked if there is another way. What I want, you can’t give me.”   

The sofa cracked, and she sneaked a swift glance at his direction. So far, so good. He didn't look enraged. He leaned back, folding his arms over his chest, an expression of deep contemplation on his face. She returned to the glaring at the burned spot, waiting.

“Yes, that presents a certain problem. Not unsolvable, but a problem.” he started slowly. The sofa cracked again, she felt him leaning forward, to the ground, more than to her. “Tell me, Granger, is he married?”

“No.”

“Gay?” he asked

“No.” She should have known he wouldn’t just let things go.

“Engaged or in a relationship?” he continued.

“No.”

“So he is free,” he mumbled, more to himself than to her.

“No.”

“Don't tell me he’s in prison.”  There was a tilt of impatience in his voice.

“No.” she had to smile. “He is in love with someone else.”

“Well, obviously not a feeling that is returned since he is alone. I do not see why would he be unattainable if you are willing to _settle for anything he could offer, for as long as he can offer_ as you put it,” he remarked harshly and she flinched. “If he is a man, after all, unrequited love and all, he’d still be willing to enter in a less satisfactory relationship, provided that you do not demand he return your feelings in equal measure.”

She should scream, or strangle him, or— something. Thinking fast, Hermione decided that she had to kill his hopes. Chancing another glance at him, she held her breath. He was leaning on his knees, long fingers steepled together, thumbs pressed at the root of his nose. He raised his head, sliding the thumbs under his chin and tapping joint index fingers over his lip.

She averted her gaze back to the floor. “You see, he-he doesn’t like me, he doesn’t even see me,” she confessed quietly, praying that she had the strength to keep a lid on another burst of tears that prickled like needles in her eyes.

“I suppose that a potion is out of the question,” he said in a voice that told her he was deep in thought.

Her head jerked towards him sharply, the burst of anger heating her cheeks. He glanced at her, the expression in his eyes making her feel like a specimen in one of his jars.

“Yes, a potion wouldn’t do. We can’t trick this magic.” He sighed. “You do realise, Granger, that you have the most atrocious taste in men. Still, not a hopeless situation. Did you try to seduce him?”

A hint of horror and a whole lot of panic gripped her throat in a painful squeeze. She mutely shook her head.

“Well, maybe he would notice you if you do try to- oh, I don’t know, present yourself to him?”

 _This is ridiculous, why he won’t let go?_  “Because, he is so in love with that girl, that he is blind to all others. I could parade naked in front of him and he’d still not see me.” she snapped at him.

“Did you try it?” He narrowed his eyes at her then waved his hand dismissively. “Nonsense, he is a man, after all.”

“Severus, it won’t work. Trust me.” She tried to dismiss it, desperation clear in her voice but she didn’t care, this _was_ a desperate situation.

“Perhaps, if you provide me with his name I could— Maybe see if I can find out more about him and... “ he said.

“You just won’t let this go, will you?” She accused him. _Please, please, let it go._

“My freedom depends on it, witch!” He snapped at her.

 _Oh, for the love of Merlin!_ “It is you-you blind, thick-headed imbecile!” she screamed at him, jumping up from the sofa. She gripped the edge of the mantle to prevent herself from hexing him on the spot.

There was a gasp and a gurgling sound behind her as if he was choking on his words or air. Hermione couldn’t blame him; she felt the same way. Well, maybe not exactly the same but close enough. A long silence fell between them, she rooteth herself on the spot waiting for him to spill his wrath on her head.

Finally, she could hear him clear his throat. “I see.”

“As I told you before, _that_ is not the solution you thought it would be... I’m sorry.” She expelled the words in one fast exhale and moved to rush out of the room. Hermione felt like the air was heavy and sticky as if it didn’t provide oxygen.

“Where do you think you are going?” His sharp voice stopped her at her tracks.

“What is the point of staying? Even if you yell at me, insult me—it still won’t change anything.” She still didn’t turn to look at him; she couldn’t bear the look of disgust on his face.

“I will do no such thing. I am prepared to pay any price if that would repay my Debt to you.” His voice was cold, flat and clinical.

The pain spread through her chest, it was an odd feeling one of crazy hopeless joy mixed with sorrow and pain.

“Perhaps you changed your mind now that you might have a chance.” He taunted her.

Hermione turned to glare at him. Prickling behind her eyes intensified. He was standing, hands folded over his chest, shoulders pulled back. He looked like he was about to teach a class, not talking about affairs of the heart or romance.

“Now then, sit down so we could talk about the conditions.”

This voice, the authoritative one she heard so many times in his classroom. She didn’t like it, she wasn’t compelled to obey, but she knew what would follow if she... Hermione sighed. _We might as well get this over with, I can cry later, out of his sight._ Walking back to the sofa turned out to be a challenge, her legs were rather wobbly and unstable or perhaps the floor was too soft.

She sat back on the sofa, grateful for the support it provided. He remained, standing, well, pacing back and forth with his hands tight in clench at the small of his back. She squeezed her hands in her lap and followed his pacing with her eyes, focusing really hard on not thinking. This task she failed majestically.  

_Well, just moments ago I was willing to take what I can get… Now, I can get him, even for a little while. Shouldn’t I consider myself lucky, it is more than I ever dreamed possible?_

“Now, let us see, what would the requirement be?” he asked finally.

“What?”

“The requirements, Granger. The conditions. I believe you have to set them.” His silky voice sounded impatient. “I do hope that you realise I cannot, and I am not inclined to extend any tender feelings towards you. However, I believe that I could provide the rest, presuming that you do have an idea what that _rest_ is, and that is in within limitations of a reason.”  

She blinked, the situation was well past odd and went straight to surreal. She cleared her throat, more to gain time than of necessity.

“You are really willing to…” She stopped mid-word, he narrowed his eyes, Hermione blinked. “Right. Well, for starters, you could call me by my name.”

“Granger…” he hissed threateningly.

“Hermione.”

“I know what your bloody name is!” He snapped. “Now, do you _know_ what you want at all?”

She squirmed under the weight of his gaze. “Yes, ummm, well, a relationship, you know…”

“Gra…” He stopped and huffed, a frown etching deep chasms above his nose. “Hermione,” he rolled her name over his tongue carefully, as if it was something poisonous. “Unless it does not involve obscene amounts of copulation in the broom closets, under the bleachers, in every available dark corner or empty classroom or in the rose-bush garden. For which I wonder about the amount of brain they possess collectively. Or a sobbing witch, spaveled over my work desk. I am quite sure that _I do not know_ what passes for _a relationship_ these days.”

“Yes. Ummm, obviously going out to places is out of the question,” she mumbled, it was easier to focus on the explanation than to whom she was giving it to. “But, you know, spending time together…”

He turned his palm up, motioning mutely between them.

“Yes, I mean talking about interests and just doing something together, like reading or cooking or walking outside. Normal things like that. But _together_ not one next to each other.”

He nodded, his frown deepening, wrinkling the skin above his nose even more.

“Holding hands…”

“Is it necessary?” he asked in a tone as if she offered him something foul to drink.

“It is the biggest part of it. _Intimacy_ , you know? Casual touching…”

He flinched.

“...Kissing…”

He groaned a deep, pained sound.

“...And the rest, I guess.” Hermione felt blushing to the roots of her hair.

Severus sat, running hands over his face. _One would through that I’m describing him torture, not relationship._

“And what _the rest_ entails?”

“Ummm, a… Uh, well,” she frowned, not that she usually suffered from the lack of terminology, but in this situation, she felt unable to say the words. “Copulation, as you put it.”

He nodded, solemn and quiet, gazing to the fire. “Do you… Are you…”

“What?” she regretted the question moment she asked it.

“Considering that you are unable to say words like shagging or sex, I’m just inquiring have you ever even…” His voice shifted from quiet to stern and cross.

“Yes, Gods! I’m not a virgin if you are asking.” She fired a quick reply before she lost her courage, this felt wrong, somehow too clinical, too cold like a business deal and not… What? “Why? Would that matter?”

“It does make things marginally better. I have no inclination to…”  he started but it seemed that he thought better of it.

“Are you?” she smirked at him. _Let us see if you like that question?_

“Of course not. Not that it is any concern of yours.” he snapped.

“I am in my full rights to ask. After all, we are discussing a relationship.” She reaffirmed her words with a determined nod.

Severus growled but said nothing. The ensuing silence bombarded her eardrums, buzzing her to insanity, when she couldn’t stand it anymore she decided to ask something, anything.

“Is there anything more you’d want to know?”

“No. You have provided a sufficient amount of information.” His reply was absent-minded at best.

“All right. So, what now?”

“For all intents and purposes, we should consider ourselves to be in a relationship one with another.” He sounded like he was giving an explanation to a small child or a particularly thick student.  

“Right.” _Why does this feel all wrong then?_ “And do we have a—time limit? Or…” Hermione now truly felt at loss for words. It wasn’t that she never had a relationship. She did have a few, albeit brief and unsatisfactory. But each of them started spontaneously and didn’t involve the conversation that sounded as if she was discussing a legal document.

“We do have a time limit that Minerva set us with. It is within the reason to say that amount of time will suffice. Would that be satisfactory to you?” He gazed at the fire as he spoke.

“I did say _for as long he is willing to offer_ if that is the time you…” she choked on her words. “I won’t set the time frame, that is the task that falls on you.” _When in Rome— I suppose._

He just nodded. “Now then, I have to finish a potion. If you need to discuss the matter more, we could talk at dinner.”

With that he nearly jumped up and crossed the room in a few long strides, disappearing in the corridor. Hermione watched him go, not quite sure how she should feel about what just happened. Her eyes fell on two untouched glasses with a drink. She reached and sipped from the one, frowned at the burn but still emptied the glass.

_I guess I do need that drink after all._


	8. Where Do We Go From Here

For the rest of the day, Severus managed to find enough excuses to avoid Granger… Errrr, Hermione. _I better get used to calling her by her name._ But in this situation, he was out of his depth. Sure he could spy, even relieve someone of his or her life if the task demanded, he could plot and manipulate. He, however, was not equipped with knowledge on how to- court or date.

Loose, no-strings-attached liaisons were more his thing.

Severus flexed his shoulder blades. This was not a situation he’d ever imagined himself in. He glared at the still surface of cooling potion. 

_This is all her fault._

She had no right, no right whatsoever to place him in this situation. Then again, she did try to divert his attention and persuade him to abandon his idea. Still, if she wasn’t so incredibly foolish he wouldn’t find himself contemplating how to get rid of her by _dating_ her.

Severus tilted his head, then shook it. There was that idea he had a few days back, the one that put this catastrophe in the motion. It _was_ his plan to get rid of the thrall of magic so he could- well, shag. But he never planned to suggest nothing remotely close to this. And this interfered with his plan.  

He did plan, if he gets rid of the Debt, and manage to sway her to see things his way… Severus smirked, not doubting for a second that he could manipulate Gra... Hermione to see things his way. He hoped to make his idea a more permanent fixture. Now, he had very limited time.

_One problem at the time. Let me see now…_

Abandoning glaring at the inactive cauldron, Severus sat on the narrow bench, dragging his middle finger over his lips. A slight smile tipped the corners of his lips up at the hazy memory of the kiss. He dug through his brain looking for all the knowledge he accumulated over the years. Adding to it what he learned about Hermione in the past two weeks.

He did, after all, started working towards his original plan, preparing the terrain for his future endeavours. It didn’t require much brain power to figure out she preferred coffee in the morning after her nightly _showers_ and tea if she slept through the night. At present situation that might work in his favour.

His lips stretched in a full smile.

He finally had a plan, and it was time to put it into motion. The absence of that pesky guild felt nice, and given that magic didn’t oppose his plan… Well…

~ S ~ S ~ S ~

That evening he stood next to his bed, long night-shirt and all. _It wouldn’t do to scare her away from the start._ When she crept into the room, he found it amusing, she never was one to sneak around- successfully. Her eyes huge when she caught the glimpse of him, with a short nod she rushed pass his bed. He gave her a good few steps before he called.

“Where are you think you’re going?”

“To bed--” she blinked at him.

“Why walking past it then?” he kept the amusement and slight, and most unexpected, tremor out of his voice. _Do not go too fast, slow and easy, give her time to get used to a change._ _Dew her in, don’t trigger her into suspicion._

She stood in the middle of the room, near the foot of his bed, blinking. Her lips are slightly parted in obvious confusion. _If I’d knew sooner that this is all it took to render her speechless._

“My bed--” She said but he stopped her.

“My understanding is that couples, that are in a relationship and live together also share the bed. Am I mistaken?”

“Uh! N-no.” A stutter dropped from her lips before she licked them. Now, that was something he could get used seeing, her pink tongue sliding over full lips, begging to kiss her, to sink his teeth… _Focus Severus, later._

“Then I presume we will share this one.” he pointed at his bed.

“Yes-- In time-- Look, Severus, I really appreciate- well, everything you-- At any rate I’m not sure I’m ready to-- It might be a bit too fast, you know?” she kept tripping over her own words, her skin gaining darker shades of red with each word she spoke.

“May I suggest to formulate the sentence in your head before trying to speak? Eh?”

“Gods! Don’t you think that you taking things a bit too fast? I’m not sure I’m ready to-shag…” She choked on a word, sounding like she used it in the last moment, as a replacement to something else. “Not this fast, and certainly not after the conversation we had today.”

“Explain,” he said.

“Well, I think- no- I _need_ for things to feel a bit more natural. Not so- _forced_.” her voice teetered on the edge of the tears.

“I see. I am afraid you misunderstood me, Gra-Hermione. All I offered is to _sleep_.”

“Oh! Oh, yes, of course- I can do that.” she nodded, he found he confusion interesting enough to let her nonsensical reply slip.  

Without another word he slipped under the comforter and tapped the newly added pillow, raising one eyebrow. She nodded and pointed at her bed.

“Right, I just, I need to change.” with that, she rushed to her bed and dashed out of the room.

Severus briefly wondered how sorry she was to have chosen that flimsy bit of silk as her sleeping attire? It was obvious that she did not plan on sharing the room with him. Not that he had any complaints to her choice.

Hermione returned, the blush from her face crept down her neck and toward a lovely decolletage. He must have noticed his gaze, fixed upon her, which he didn’t try to hide, because she crossed the space of the room in only a few steps and shuffled under the comforter.

Severus had a need to start laughing. She chose to lie on the edge, keeping herself as far from him as possible, wand tightly clenched in hand. Now, that bit he found offensive. _What does she thinks I am, some sort of molester?_

He huffed and she twitched. With a sharp nod to her, he whispered Nox and turned his back to her. A good 20 minutes later he felt the mattress shift, she finally loosened up and settled in a more comfortable position.

 _This is ridiculous!_ Severus fumed quietly. _This was her requirement, I didn’t ask for this. For any of it._  He never showed any type or preference to her, nor to anyone that she could witness. He was doing his best not to intimidate her, not to mention to give her what she wanted.

 _Is this some sort of elaborate joke? Am I really what she so_ **_desires_** _? I cannot see any sign of it, quite the opposite… If this is…_ he prevented himself to finish the thought when magic tugged on his soul flooding it with guilt. He didn’t miss that feeling, but in the light of new events, this feeling might just prove to be useful, he could use it as a guide until it was completely gone.  

~ S ~ S ~ S ~ 

Severus jerked from his sleep, the mattress twitched. In the instant, he was alert, ready to fight before something scratched his mind. Low keening sound accompanied another twitch. Severus rolled to his side.

During the night they both shifted to their back, but now she was jerking her limbs. He knew a nightmare when he saw one, he lived with them most of his life. Severus was firm in his belief that he did deserve those nightmares, he also thought that Hermione shouldn't suffer them, not that that was avoidable after the war.

She keened again and he carefully stretched his arm, taking her hand into his. Her hand was small and twitched in accordance with her dream, he presumed. Severus expected from her to wake up and release her wrath on him. To his surprise keening stopped, small fingers wrapped around his in a deadlock. He frowned - while he did know how to appease distraught students, he wasn’t sure what to do with Hermione.  

If he applies his own experience, that might help. He alone, however, was never on the receiving end of the solace. All he could do was act the way he would find helpful in the same situation. _Hopefully, I won’t get hexed…_

Carefully and slow-motion like, he shifted and pulled her towards him. Slightly damp forehead and abundance of hair pressed against his neck and face. She stiffened the curled around him, clutching on his nightshirt like a vine. Soon after her breathing stilled and she wafted a soft breath over his skin, relaxing all her weight to his side.

The position turned out to be not so smart move on his part in the long run. Her breath tickled his neck and collarbones. Her cheek pressed at his shoulder, stiff from her weight but he was reluctant to move. The swell of her breasts pressed against his biceps, she wrapped one of her legs around his, pressing her pelvis to his hip.

And as if on cue, the stiffness in his neck and shoulder muscles seemed like a minor problem considering the fast-growing stiffness in some other areas. But the peace he felt was well worth a highly uncomfortable situation. He hoped that he’s finally working towards the resolution of his Debt.


	9. Whispers of the heart

Hermione couldn’t remember when was the last time she slept so well when she has woken up feeling so rested. With pain in her neck, but rested. Why did she have that pain at all? _What’s wrong with this pillow?_ The said pillow moved, and she jumped in a sitting position startled. 

At least she tried to jump, only tangling herself in the comforter, hook her foot on something and fall back. The pillow grunted.

“If you are quite finished with the attempt to mangle me, I’d appreciate the return of my freedom to move.” Severus’ voice grumbled above her.

Her heart speeded up, climbing to her throat. She finally paid attention to the source of warmth, the _body_ or more precisely one very distinctive body, only other available in this setting.  Her heart doubled already insane speed. Hermione realised that she not only used Severus as a pillow, no, but she was also half using him as a mattress as well.

“I need to use the - facility,” he informed her in a neutral tone.

“Oh! Oh, yes, sorry...” she mumbled into his shoulder and tried to roll off, finding once more that she only tangled herself more.

With a grunt of displeasure, faster than she could react, Severus grabbed her free side and manoeuvred them both, rolling her on the back and hovering above her for a few moments. The position was so… Hermione gulped, unsure how to react, her brain warned her to stay still, her body wanted to pull him closer. Her eyes focused on his lips.  In the next moment, he was gone, taking a good deal of heat with him.

Once alone in the room, Hermione allowed herself one shaky breath. She had no idea what to do or how to act around him. It was all fine while he hissed, but now he was what probably translated in Snape as amiable. He placed her in an awkward position last night, but thinking of it, Severus only did what he thought is acceptable. She did, after all, told him whatever he was willing to offer.

In retrospect reining her own needs presented the problem, along with the fact that she had the feeling she is forcing him into something. Hermione sighed, Harry, Ron, all of her friends really still didn't manage to understand - Snape was a prickly and downright nasty but he could be manipulated into doing things he opposed or didn’t want to. She understood him, she understood more than anyone how vulnerable he was. Making a decision Hermione launched into motion.  

~ S ~ S ~ S ~

If that conversation they had was surreal, the situation she was in now went beyond that. Four days after they spent the night sharing the bed and just _sleeping_ , which turned out to be a permanent fixture on his insistence, she was confused and unsettled.

No matter how much she would try to give him space, Severus seemed to almost hover around her. He took her words seriously. Each morning she would wake up to the hot tea, that is if she wouldn’t wake up snuggled next to him. He would patiently stay flat on his back, stiff as a board but wait for her to wake up. He would spend time with her, reading mostly, even in the odd moment trying to start a conversation. If they went into the woods, he’d try to hold her hand- the task which both performed clumsily. The more effort he put in, the more she would try to pull back and reign her rampaging feelings.

_Is this what I really wanted?_

So many small details, like placing a blanket over her shoulders, or just handing her a mug of hot cocoa when she wanted one, even if she didn’t ask for it. It all melted her heart then crushed it thoroughly. She wanted more, she wanted less, Hermione wasn’t sure what she wanted anymore. They still didn’t come close to even kiss, and that hurt a bit.

 _You wanted it to feel more natural, so why are you complaining now? If you want the kiss just bloody kiss him._  

It seemed easier said than done. Interpersonal relationships weren’t something she could read in a book. If it was any of her previous lovers she’d know what to do. But it wasn’t, so she was lost. For the first time in her life, she felt completely out of her depth and with no one to advise her.

“May I ask for a few hours of your time, Hermione?”A silky voice behind her forced her to jump, startled.

She turned to look at Severus. He had his customary black robes, but his hair was pulled back and tied in the nape of his neck.  Her hands twitched in need to reach for him.

“Um, yes. How can I assist you?”  her throat felt dry.

“I have a huge order that would hold me in the basement for the better part of the day and night. That would be contrary to our agreement about time spent together. “ he paused, crest wrinkling the skin between his eyes. “However, if you wouldn’t object, I could cut time if you assist me.” Another pause and the frown deepened. “You are, after all, School ‘s Potions Teacher, your knowledge will suffice, hopefully, if you have no objections.”

“I am the Potions _Mistress_ , Severus. And yes, I will help you,” she sighed.

“Questionable,” he mumbled. “But you can follow the instruction and that would do.”

With the sigh, she stood up. “So what are we going to make?”

“A potion of my own design,” he replied shortly turning, she followed.

Hermione’s heart raced, she knew that he had a false name under which he published and sold his patented potions, some of them were in high demand. Many potioneers tried to copy or re-make his potions with no success. The man was truly a master of his trade, an artist.  Before they entered laboratory he stopped, Hermione collided with his back.

“You will sign the binding contract about secrecy.” His voice was sharp and made it clear that he would brook no argument. Hermione nodded to his back.

The laboratory was almost sterile, every surface sparkled. He pulled one box out from the shelf and rummaged through it until he found what he was looking for. Soon she was staring in the contract.

“You may read it, but it is fairly standard, obligating you to keep the recipe a secret. You may produce it in small amounts later, for your personal use but you can’t share the secret or mass reproduce it.”  

“I wouldn’t, even if you didn’t ask me to sign.” She gave him a smile, signing the document.

The excitement she felt only grew, Hermione was barely able to suppress the trembling of her hands. Brewing with him, alongside him! It was a dream come true. And this was something she was familiar with, she could relax into it. He was the same as she remembered, precise, meticulous and demanding. But his hands worked with speed and elegance, confidence oozed off him.

“Your angle is incorrect.”

“What?” she jerked her head to look at him, he was standing in the cloud of shimmering fumes.

“The stirring rod, it is under the wrong angle. Are you or are you not capable of following the simplest instruction?”  

“But I’m holding it under 45 degrees…”

“Apparently not,” he said.

She started to pull back, but in a half a step he was behind her, covering her hand with stirring rod with his. Pressing against her back and leaning over her shoulder.

“But…”

“I already finished my batch.” His breath tickled her ear. “10 half-stirs. Now try to follow and remember, miss this step and the potion is useless. Half the motion under the 45 angle then half full vertical only a few millimetres from the edge of the cauldron. Alternate. Like this.”

Severus spoke slowly, stirring the potion by moving her hand. She listened but Hermione was sure that she wouldn’t remember any of it. The heat seeped through his robe and into her back. She could feel every move, every muscle and bone.

_Six...Seven…_

Hermione focused on counting not to think of the pleasant prickles that spread from the point they touched up to her scalp.

_Eight...Why does he have to move his entire body for steering?... Nine…_

_...Ten…_

She fully expected from him to move, step back and spill poison on her head. What she didn’t expect was for him to move her hand, pulling out the steering rod. He let go her hand but didn’t move, rather he leaned more forward, pressing her further against the bench, to turn off the flames. Cauldron gave a hiss and shimmering vapour risen from the potion surface.

 _Perfect height,_ her treacherous brain supplied judging the height of the workbench, its wooden surface grated on her hips uncomfortably. The position provided her with the perfect excuse. Giving in to her desires, Hermione pushed back grinding her behind against him.

_Well, that’s unexpected._

It shouldn’t come as such surprise- he was a man, after all, and they were in a delicate position, a very intimate one. Relishing the fact that if nothing biology worked in her favour, Hermione pushed back again. Her antics were rewarded with a grind. Heat licked from the inside and her breath hitched. It did seem that he wasn’t completely opposed to a bit of… Well, not intimacy but shagging. Hermione had nothing against that idea.

“It won’t do to slosh the potion, Hermione. However, I would suggest making the use of the fumes, they are quite potent if regrettably not marketable. That is if you are...willing.” silky purr sent shivers down her spine.

“Um...I know it may be late but…” it only now hit her that in her eagerness to brew with him she neglected to ask _what_ potion did they make?

“It is highly demanded potion, by witches. Male contraceptive.”

“The Golden Goose?” her eyes widened at the cauldron, all witches she talked to recommend it. Ron’s wife used it in gallons. “You say that the fumes are…”

“Quite effective, more than a potion alone.”  He reaffirmed his words with slow grind of his front to her behind. “Tell me, Hermione, what would you rather do, discuss the subtlety of potion making or…” his voice faded.

It really wasn’t a question what she wanted, wasn’t it now? Wiggling, Hermione turned to face him. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to…”

Hermione stopped talking, one of his eyebrows went high up emphasizing a smirk. _RIght, man, but should I…_ Smirk threatened to morph into scowl and Hermione reacted, she hoped that disruption of air won’t damage the precious potion. Severus issued a surprised grunt when the pair of them landed on the bed. Well, the grunt might have been caused by her landing on top of him.

Hermione rushed to struggle out of her robes, trying to tug off his at the same time. Not an easy task, she was _sitting_  on a good portion of his robes. WIth an impatient hiss, she started to dig for her wand. Severus looked half confused half disgruntled, or maybe just surprised with her reaction. That stopped her mid-motion, did she interpret his words wrongly?

With a growl, he moved. Her back hit the bed, with a motion of his hand her robes were gone. _How does he do that?_ Another motion and his robes were gone, she noticed his wand in the holster against his forearm. _Ah, so not wandless just voiceless._

He was now above her, hovering, pale chest with the pinkish mark, almost completely without hairs. She could tell that it wasn’t how he started, but thin scars and healed patches of skin, that looked like potion accidents did the job for him. Ropey muscles tight, the strength he radiated came from inside. Hermione felt that it was as much physical as it was his personality, but nothing on him suggested that amount of pure physical strength. The same way that she thought him handsome and magnetic even his features couldn’t be matched with those words.

The smell of herbs, that distinct aroma that lingered around in the air from fire, a sort of like smell of forest or ground after the rain, at the same time light note of freshly mowed grass and mint mixed with sage.

His eyes now alive with something deep burning under the surface, that looking in his eyes paralyzed her for a few moments. It changed him, transformed him into someone so alive that it felt paralyzing. Her brain glitched, stuck in an infinite loop. Her body, however, knew exactly what wanted and what to do.

Hermione watched as her hand raised to touch him, it wasn’t the first time and in a way it was. This was different. New. The heat pricked her skin while her stomach coiled in a tight bundle. For a few precious moments they stared at each other and then he moved, the world outside stopped to exist.


	10. What the cat brought in?

Severus couldn’t believe that she fell for that trick, but more than that, that she so readily accepted what he offered silently. It wasn’t that he deceived her, he had accepted the order for the potion they brewed, but he could have made it by himself and reasonably fast, the order wasn’t bigger than usual. What surprised him was his reluctance to be locked in the basement, brewing, without her by his side.

And that wasn’t the first time… The magic he blamed couldn’t influence that, now could it? No, it wasn’t magic, it was something else entirely, and to his utter befuddlement, it wasn’t new either.  The proximity, the feel of her night after night, brought it up to the surface, but he knew himself well enough to realise. There would be time for soul-searching, but not at the moment.

At this moment he was treated with an exquisite view of huge brown eyes that sparkled with an undiluted desire. Full lips parted just so. Flimsy black lace imprisoned the milky globes of her pert breasts. Pliable curves of her body tightly pressed against his. Her urgency told him she was in need as much as he was. However, he faced a problem of a very personal nature…

For all this time she was here he didn’t relieve himself, not once. More than that, he hadn’t been with a woman for a very long time. He would have to do something, to address her urgency but still prevent what threatened to be an embarrassingly fast and short encounter on his part.

Her hand touched his chest, fingers fanning over the muscles that vibrated from pent-up need. Tilting the head he descended to join their lips. Sparkles danced in front of his eyes. Her lips, soft and smooth welcomed him. She tasted like black tea and wild mint. At first, those were soft and timid and caressing kisses, he wasn’t looking for permission but he gave her enough time to show him what she wants. Softness fast transformed into urgency on her part, her hands found their way to his hair pulling him in, closer.

The kiss morphed into a full-on snog attack, not a battle but a heated conversation, a debate in which each of them tried to show the other just how deep the need was. Clash of teeth and tongue, sloppy, messy, delightful. Hermione buckled under him and he trailed his tongue and lips down her neck, savouring in the slight saltiness of her skin, nibbling lightly along the way, drawing the sweetest gasps and subdued moans from her.

He nipped at the pulsating vein and she bucked, arching under him. He pressed his forehead in her shoulder, gritting teeth- if he responds now it will over too soon. It will be humiliating and knowing himself- he’ll lash out. Experience told him, that never ended well.

His hands explored the silkiness of her skin, trailing circles over jutting nipples that tented intricate lace. He sank his teeth, lightly in one peak that hardened under his tongue. She bucked again, propping her chest, offering herself. He continued to play with her nipples, finding them fascinating in their lacy prison.

Finally, he moved down, trailing kisses on his path, over the expanse of skin and curves and the peques of bones. This was a journey, very unique in its nature. His nose picked up aromas so unique to her almonds, honey, coconut, her arousal, the soft scent that was purely her.  On his tongue there was a saltiness, she was covered in slight perspiration, but he didn’t mind it.

Severus reached the valley between her thighs and inhaled deeply, white cotton blocking his way, so he waved his hand once more, removing the rest of the obstacles. She was neatly trimmed down there, he smiled before reaching to explore Hermione's more private parts. He hoped that he can still remember what to do, but judging by her sounds he was at least doing something right.

Lapping at her clit he gently pushed a finger in her, she was slick and warm, so warm inside, his insides tighten from desire, his cock twitched in need. _It won’t do, I have to bring her to the edge first._ Adding another finger he started to pump gently, curling his fingers in the direction he hoped was the right one, but at this point, his brain refused to think properly or at all.

Finally, her sighs and her muscles told him that she is near orgasm.

“Severus, I want…”

“Patience Hermione, just a bit--” he never managed to finish.

Hermione pulled him up, in a display of unexpected strength, with half-growl. He found himself on his back all of a sudden. She was above him, more precisely she was descending on him.

“You can explore later.” she huffed.

At least that was the last he managed to register before the warmth of her body enveloped his cock, rendering him deaf and blind. All he could focus on was slickness and most exquisite and long forgotten bliss of friction. His hands reached to her breasts on his own accord. The world stopped existing…    

 

Everything that came later was a pure shock. Even if his performance was a bit on a short side, he could swear that she didn’t notice if he consider a fact that her orgasm triggered his. What he didn’t expect were tears - sex was satisfactory but typically first time clumsy and rushed, nothing that would be a cause for tears. And yet she declared them tears of joy, something he doubted profoundly.

Severus gazed into nothing, trying to sort out his own emotions, that run wild and confused him more than a little when an ethereal tabby bounded in.

“What do you two think you are doing?” Minerva’s voice hissed, Hermione who finally fell asleep steered but didn’t woke up. “The wards are more temperamental than ever. At one moment they were stronger than when Dumbledore was Headmaster. Now they are almost non-existing. I don’t care what the problem is, fix it.”

In the blink of an eye, the cat was gone. Severus blinked. _Impossible, I feel more at peace than I did in… I can’t remember. If nothing I would expect wards to be strong, Hogwarts is satisfied with me, I can feel it._  His brain run through all he knew about life debt, his Life Debt and Hogwarts were in thing connection. His eyes widened. _Of course, how blind we all were? She IS the conduit._

Getting out of the bed careful not to disturb her he padded to the living room, calling on his Patronus, silver Fennec fox appeared.

“Minerva, I know what is the cause of the problem and I’ll work on fixing it, but you have to give me time. Whatever you do, do not pressure Granger, I’ll explain later. Send me daily updates by owl post.”

Sending Patronus to Minerva he returned to bed, she was still sleeping, traces of tears on her cheeks. He gently brushed the lock of her hair and landed a soft kiss on her cheek, determined to be next to her when she wakes up, even if he had a burning desire to research more on what he had on the Life Debt and magics Hermione used.

 

Five days after they had their first intimate act, first but not the last, Severus sipped his morning coffee frowning at Minerva’s letter. It only confirmed his assumption, which didn’t bring him closer to the solution. Even if he was more than amenable to prolong his time spent with Hermione, not out of pressure but because he discovered that her presence is welcomed even desired on his part. That was a puzzle on its own and he swore to solve it once he dealt with Minerva.

He eyed the letter addressed to Hermione, she was still sleeping. The letter was placed next to her coffee mug, and it made him feel uneasy. He couldn’t recognize the handwriting but it was an unmistakably male one. WHich was ridiculous, there was no need to feel annoyed by a letter. In fact, another man in her life might free him…

Hermine came to the kitchen and flopped on her seat.

“Good morning,” she mumbled.

“It was,” Severus replied dryly.

He watched her sipping her coffee and read the letter with a mixture of frown and smile. Finally, she nodded folding the letter.

“I’ll have to go to Hogwarts for a short time. I have to meet- some friends. But I’ll be back in an hour or so. I presume you’ll welcome my absence.” she gave him a tight smile.

“Do not hurry back or at all if Minerva permits it.” he focused his attention to the Prophet, pretending to be disinterested.

She nodded, the moment he stayed alone he frowned. _Who could be inviting her this early in the morning, and why? It is not my concern._  He should be happy with this development, and yet he wasn’t.  The idea formed in his mind and he dismissed it with a shake of a head. _This is beyond ridiculous. No, I most definitely won’t follow her._


	11. Make up your bloody mind

Hermione paced next to the water edge of Black Lake. She would be happy if Harry wrote and asked her to meet, but the letter was written by Harry’s colleague, and it mentioned that Harry and Ron will come. She sighed, she didn’t need this now, her emotions were on a rollercoaster.

Severus was fire and ice, a walking-talking oxymoron. He would still snark but his actions were the complete opposite from his words. He would complain about everything and anything but he would still hold her during the night, letting her use his shoulder for a pillow. He would snarl about lack of privacy and her constant presence, but he was the one following her around like a lost stray, not giving her a moment of solitude. They would make love not shag, but he claimed that he only fulfils the terms of their agreement.

Hermione wasn’t sure if this was what she wanted, one thing never changed- she still loved him, even more. Apart from his gruff exterior, he was careful, attentive and committed. He was an imaginative lover, not shy or selfish as she thought he would be, each and every time he placed her pleasure over his.

“‘Mione!” came a call snapping her out of her musings. Down the path, Harry and Ron walked toward her.

“Hey, long time no see, what brings you to Hogwarts?” she smiled to Harry and nodded to Ron. 

“Minerva asked us to help with maintaining wards.” Said Harry, enveloping her in an embrace. “I hear you are working on it as well, with- Snape.” 

“I do, not that it's going well, you know how he can be. How is Ginny? Kids?” 

“They are fine, Gin sends her greetings. And something about promised coffee.” Harry scratched his head, ruffling his hair. Ron was a few paces behind, smiling but not quite approaching her.    

“Yes, tell her I’ll come to see her as soon as this is over.” Hermione smiled, then frowned. “How bad it is? Hogwarts wards--”

“It’s odd. One day they are firm and sound the very next they are none-existing almost.” Harry smiled. “We are dealing with, I have no doubt that you’ll find a solution. How are you? How you are dealing with- him?”

“I can handle Severus, you know me,” Hermione said feeling her cheeks warm up.

“Oh he is Severus now.” spat Ron.

“He was always Severus, Ronald, it is his name,” she replied, sharp voice betraying the annoyance she felt.

“It is all your fault, you know.” Ron frowned at her.

“Ron.” Harry turned to his friend but Ron was in his element.

“Well, it is. First, she saved the greasy git, then she tied him to the school, made him virtually immortal--”

“That’s not true, he’s not immortal.” she felt anger choking her, how did Ron know this?

“Now, you are living with him--” continued Ron.

“And how is that your concern, Ronald?” Hermione put her hands on hips, ready to fight.

“It is-- What are you thinking Hermione? The next thing you’ll tell me you are shagging the greasy git.”

“Ronald, that is not our concern, we are Hermione’s friends, we should support her.” Harry tried, but Ron ignored him.

Hermione wasn’t sure if she would rather strangle Ron or run and cry. Harry was the only one who stayed on her side after everyone found out that she saved Snape. The wizarding community might be grateful for Snape’s contribution to the war, but that didn’t mean they forgave him or her for that matter.

“Support what? She left me for him.”

“You left me, Ronald,” Hermione said

“Well, yea. So are you?”

“Am I- what?”

“Are you shagging him?” Ron frowned at her.

Hermione felt like an icy cold hand squeezing her chest. She was shagging him, and she wasn’t ashamed of it, but they never talked about letting anyone know...  Before she could answer there was a rush of air, Ron’s eyes bulged, Harry gasped. One arm curled around her waist, familiar body behind her back.

“And what if she does, Mr Weasley?” Severus’ sharp voice cut through the air. “What are you going to do then?”

“No, ti cant-- Hermione, tell me you are not!” Ron sounded scandalised.

“What I do or don’t do is no concern of yours Ron.” she leaned at Severus’ chest, enjoying in the warmth.

One tabby bounded in and transformed in Minerva.

“What is going on here? Why are my wards _down_? _Again_?” she asked instead of the greeting. “Why do I have outbursts of wild magic all through the school?”

“Nothing, we were just talking Headmistress.” Harry stepped in.

“One would think that you learned your lesson about lying, Mr Potter.” Severus turned to Minerva. “I told you not to pressure Hermione, I warned you. And you sent Potter and Weasley to bully her?”

“Don’t be ridiculous Severus, they are her friends. And what that has to do with Hogwarts.” Minerva’s voice was stern same as her face.  

“We have to talk, Minerva. Come with me.” Severus said. Hermione felt loss when he stepped back, but he raised her head and landed a soft kiss on her lips. “If they bother you, just hex them.”

Ron made a gagging noise, but before he could say anything Harry stopped him, whispering something in his ear. Ron gave her one angry glance but without another word turned and walked towards the castle. Harry smiled at her, scratching his head.

“You and Snape, huh? Finally?” there was no condemnation in his voice.

“Yeah, it’s- something. I can’t tell you what, I’m not sure myself.” she nodded, heat licking up her face.

“Well, I’m glad for you.” Harry raised his hand when she took air to defend herself. “No, I am. I can’t understand. I don’t know if it’s even healthy or good for you. Because, you know- him and my mom, and all that. And to be honest that whole story creeps me a bit. But if can-- Well, if he could be like that for my mom, then I can only hope that he will be the same for you.”

“Thank you, Harry. It-it means a lot.” she couldn’t hold back the tears.”I don’t think he loves me, or feels anything for me. I’m, I hope I’m not, but I’m afraid that I’m more of a convenience. But he is nice to me, odd as it may sound.”

“I don’t know ‘Mione, he did come to defend you, he didn’t have to.” Harry smiled glancing at Minerva and Severus whispering a bit further. “He is Snape after all.”

She turned to glance, resisting the need to run her fingers over her lips. He kissed her, this was the first time he kissed her outside of the bed. Smile spreading over her face against her attempt to suppress it. Severus turned sharply and walked to her.

“Mr Potter. Hermione, we are going home.” He said in a voice that brooked no argument.

“It’s a long walk unless you could--” she stopped at the expression on his face

“I can fly unsupported, I am not a broom,” he smirked, summoning two brooms from the nearby tree growth. “However, I didn’t come unprepared.”

 

Once she was seated in front of the fireplace, tucked in a blanket with a mug of tea laced with Ogden’s, the full impact of what happened hit her.

“What is on your mind?” Severus asked

“You shouldn’t tell them...” she whispered. “About us, I mean.”

“Why? Are you ashamed of your liaison with me?” Severus raised one eyebrow.

“No, of course not. It’s just, it will be hard to explain, once we end all this, and…”

“I don’t see why you have to explain yourself to anyone.” he cut her off. “You are your own person.”

“I am, but-- Harry and Ron, they know- about my feelings, and--”

“I do not see how is this their concern.”

“Why did you follow me?” she asked.

“The man wrote to you, and it wasn’t Potter.” his voice hardened.

“And that is not your concern.”

“It is while you are with me, no matter the circumstances,” he replied, matter-of-factly.

Hermione placed the mug on the table and turned to him. “WIll you make up your bloody mind?”

“I beg your pardon.” Severus raised his chin.

“You don’t want me here - you want me here. You are almost forced to be in a relationship with me - you acting like a jealous lover. Just- _make up your mind_.” her voice cracked, emotions choking her.

Severus cleared his throat. “I did plan to postpone this conversation, but since you insist. I do not see the reason to end our- agreement any time soon in the foreseeable future.”

“What?” Hermione felt boneless, shocked to the core.

“You are not as appalling company after all. You even started to learn about Potion Making art. And our- what we share is pleasurable, for both parties I would say. In light of that, I do not see a reason to end it. Do you?”

“Are you telling me you’d like to- date me?” she gasped

“No, dating is for children, and neither of us falls under that category. I’m proposing to keep what we have now.” Severus said

“And _what_ do we have now? No, I want to know, we agreed on two months off- something, to allow you to get rid of your debt to me. So what is it that _we_ have?”

“I presume something so subtle would go unnoticed by you. My Debt _can’t_  be repaid this way, because Granger, it is not what you _want_. Now I am offering the best I can offer, to expand our deal, indefinitely. That is, to put it in words simple enough, not to change anything, just to remove the time we agreed upon.”

Hermione blinked, her heart ticked in her throat. “Wait, are you saying you’d want me to stay- _here_.”

“I do not see why not. The cottage is still on the school grounds. You could give the Head of the House position to  Draco and go to classes from here.” he shrugged. “Or you could join in with my business.”

“And what when you get bored with me?” 

“Hermione, you are not that dense. I would presume that you of all people would know I do not propose this kind of deals on a whim.” Severus sounded insulted.

She observed his face, it was a mask but a slightly pink coloured his forehead. There was a nervous thrum of his fingers, hands on his back in a just a tad too tight clench. _He is nervous._ She nodded.

“If you are sure- if that is what you want?” she said in a quiet voice.

“Then I can notify Minerva-”

“No, I’ll notify Minerva.” She whisked her wand to summon the Patronus same time as he did. Two foxes bounced around the room. Hermione laughed, for the first time in a long time she laughed with a full heart.

She jumped from the chair and hugged him, pressing her lips against his. Severus stiffened, but his arms enveloped her in an embrace and his lips pressed to hers.  She finally understood, Harry’s words echoing in her head _He is Snape after all._

If she expected a declaration of love or affection from him she could wait until the end of eternity, as always with him- she should have pay attention to his actions, not his words. He cared for her, it may not be love yet, but in time that will come too. Most importantly- he wanted her, to stay with him. Now with that, she could live with.

The kiss melted to another and another, they both missed the tremor and rush of magic, a golden light spreading around the Hogwarts. They also missed silver strands coiling around them. For all Hermione cared, the world could come to its end.

“Now, you did mention something about not being a broom.” She whispered into a kiss. “I bet I could prove you wrong.”

“You have a dirty mind,” Severus replied

“Want to check how dirty it is?”

“I will never stand in a way of your explorations or advancement.” Severus straighten his back, not letting her out of his embrace. In the next moment in the crack of air, they were in the bedroom.   


	12. Epilogue

Severus huffed in annoyance, agitation ticking in his pulse. “WIll you restrain that beast of yours? He was in the laboratory again!”

“He loves you, Severus. You should feel flattered.” Came a reply from the kitchen.

“Indeed. I am flattered, so much so that I might get creative with hexing if I find more of his fur in _our_ laboratory.” He growled.

And right on cue, a kneazle rubbed against his leg. With a hiss, he picked up the furry intruder and carried him to the kitchen. Once there, he outstretched his arms full of a furry pet and informed his wife with a gruff voice.

“ _This_ was in _the laboratory_ again.”

Hermione turned and smiled at him, his heart fluttered. Five years after she forced herself into his home and his heart. How- he still wasn’t sure. His life was now different, better in some parts, worse in others.

The cumulative impact of curses he was submitted to over the years, left their toll on him. His hands shook sometimes up to the point that he couldn't brew anymore- so Hermione finally quit her job at Hogwarts and started working with him. His joints hurt more and more with each rain or winter.  That was bad.

He was still gruff, but with time he realised that he did, indeed, fell in love with Hermione. Not that he ever used those words, but somehow she knew, she would tell him occasionally. And he loved her, the way he thought it impossible. He may not have said the words, he may have stayed same grumpy and sarcastic wanker, but he would destroy the world for her.

He watched her now, dressed in tailored robes in brown and forest green, her hair tamed in a nest on the top of her head revealing the lovely slope of the neck. The low cut exposed the start of her breasts and emphasised the waist. _Is she planning to go dressed like that?_ The possessive thought forced him to drop the cat who ran away with a hiss and a growl.  

“Are you going to go like that?” He asked.

“It is a lovely outfit and I don’t have many opportunities to wear it.” Hermione shrugged.

“Hmh.” Severus huffed.

“You- disapprove?” She widened the eyes, motioning the hand along the line of her body.

“I approve the choice of robes, I _disapprove_ the fact that you’ll be going alone.”  He grumbled.

“I was hoping that you will escort me.” His wife tilted her head.

“I have no wish nor desire to go there. I have no obligation to be there, and neither do you.” Severus said, but in his heart, he already knew he would accompany her. He won’t let her out of his sight, dressed like that. Secretly, he relished in the fact that everyone looked him with hatred when she was next to him.

“You won’t be going there to work. Besides, you would be the only one armed with the knowledge that these robes are the only obstacle I have on myself.” Hermione’s eyes sparkled with mischief.

“You most certainly won’t get out of the house like that.”  He tried to sound appalled with her words, strict in his intention, but the voice betrayed him. It wasn’t something anyone would notice, but he knew that Hermione didn’t miss it- her grin told him as much.

“Or you could go with me, and then we could be the ones blasted out of the rose bushes.”

“Out of the question.” Severus tried to maintain his stance, if only for appearance's sake.

She made a few steps, until she was toe to toe with him, propping she pecked his lips. “Get dressed, we leave in half an hour.”

“One of these days, witch...”  His growl turned in to half purr as he drew her near.

“Perhaps, but not today and not in any foreseeable future.” She said in a serious tone with a note of amusement.

“You are, without any doubt, _the worst_ thing that ever happened to me.” He purred into her neck, nipping at silky skin.

“And I love you too.” She replied, pulling back. Her eyes gleaming, happiness radiating from her face. “Now, go and get dressed.”

Severus retreated to their bedroom to change his robes, looking at his reflection he allowed himself a smile. _I’d be lost without her. You are a lucky git._

THE END


End file.
